


Curiosity

by Life_sans_Sin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Age Difference, Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Aphrodisiac-like effects, Asexual Reader, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Body Worship, Cannot express that enough, Condoms, Cunnilingus, DFAB reader, Depression, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Ford Pines is a Good Brother, Ford has PTSD, Ford has nightmares, Ford is adorable, Ford is awkward, Ford is insecure, Ford is safe boi, Ford is touch-starved, How weird can this get, Human/Mermaid Sex, Intercrural Sex, Kidnapping, Magical mermaid transformations, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mermaid Sex, Misgendering, Multi, NO WRITTEN NON-CON, Nightmares, Non-Penetrative Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Occasionally switches to other POVs, Older Man/Younger Woman, Only for a few chapters though, Other, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Weirdmageddon, Praise Kink, Protective Ford Pines, Protective Stan Pines, Reader-Insert, Scars, Sea Grunkles, Selfharm Scars, Sexual Tension, Stan O' War II, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan Pines is a Good Brother, Tentacles, The Pines family is good family, They all have nightmares after Weirdmageddon, They love and protect their family okay, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, i think???, light tho, mentions of selfharm, more tags to be added later, mostly Ford's POV, nonbinary reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 111,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22706479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_sans_Sin/pseuds/Life_sans_Sin
Summary: To say that he had a curiosity for you by now was, quite simply, an understatement of the grandest proportions. It was like saying that a man dying in the desert was thirsty, or that the sky was blue, because yes, technically, he supposed those statements were, in fact, true; however, they did not accurately paint the grander picture that was you.You, the enigma who always seemed to evade the grasp of his understanding.That could, of course, be because he wasn’t the most knowledgeable when it came to human interaction. That could also be because… well, you weren’t the most open person. Not to say that you were aloof, no. If anything, that title was far better suited to himself. No, you tended to hide things about yourself, be it because of your kind nature or your manners, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that you were an anomaly in his life; one that he intended to fully figure out.[Reader is Non-binary and Asexual. Reader has depression and anxiety. Reader is AFAB.]
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Reader, Ford Pines/Reader, Mabel Pines & Reader, Stan Pines & Reader, Stan Pines/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, like I said, this is just super self-indulgent. I figured maybe someone else might enjoy it, too, so I decided to go ahead and post it, bit by bit.
> 
> If you like what I write, maybe consider hitting me up on Tumblr? I take requests AND commissions, so hey!
> 
> https://life-sans-sin.tumblr.com

curiosity 

_noun_ \- **intense desire to know, understand**

-

To say that he had a curiosity for you by now was, quite simply, an understatement of the grandest proportions. It was like saying that a man dying in the desert was thirsty, or that the sky was blue, because yes, technically, he supposed those statements were, in fact, true; however, they did not accurately paint the grander picture that was you.

You, the enigma who always seemed to evade the grasp of his understanding.

That could, of course, be because he wasn’t the most knowledgeable when it came to human interaction. That could also be because… well, you weren’t the most open person. Not to say that you were aloof, no. If anything, that title was far better suited to himself. No, you tended to hide things about yourself, be it because of your kind nature or your manners, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that you were an anomaly in his life; one that he intended to fully figure out.

-

When you first joined the crew at the Mystery Shack, during one of the summers where he and Stanley were not manning the Stan-O-War II, it was because of an ad Soos had placed for a new person to run the front counter.

“Hey.” You’d said softly, coming across very laid back but friendly as you shook first Soos’, then Stan’s, then Ford’s hands. He waited for the inevitable, the look down between the two of you to see what was up with his freakish, six-fingered hand. ...But it never came. Instead, you launched straight into asking questions, curiously, about what the Mystery Shack was about, and what the job entailed.

Meanwhile, Ford found himself (rather rudely, now that he thinks about it more) trying to figure out just… _what_ you were.

Your voice was too high to be totally masculine, but too deep to be considered truly feminine. Not that voice pitched mattered one bit in determining someone’s sex, but still, he was...curious. His eyes flit downward to your hooded sweatshirt, not noticing anything too obvious… Still, he wasn’t sure, but he’d be damned if he was going to come right out and ask. That was more his brother’s style, not his.

“--ounter, and Ford here usually just sticks to his lab. You probably won’t run into him much,” Stanley said, elbowing his brother in the arm. “He’s a bit of a shut-in.”

“Oh really?” you asked, your eyes flitting over to Ford’s, taking in what you saw there before doing a discreet once-over that only he seemed to notice. “That’s too bad,” came your cool response, and he felt his face warm slightly in spite of himself.

The ‘interview’ broke apart, Soos and Stanley walking away to talk to customers, leaving you standing in the middle of the Mystery Shack with him, eyes locked. They were such a pretty color, he noted. They took in the sunlight and reflected well, showing little flecks of gold deep in the center… at least, that’s what he thought he saw.

“So, Professor Pines, is it?”

The title seemed so befitting of him, he couldn’t help the warm chill that ran down his spine as he looked at you, a small, humming noise of question escaping his throat.

Then you smiled, and although it was guarded well, didn’t quite reach your eyes, he couldn’t help but notice that your face was quite … pleasing to look at, aesthetically. Asymmetrical enough that it wasn’t unnatural looking, but there were traits you had that, societally speaking, people wanted. The cupid’s bow lips, the narrower nose, the soft, half-lidded gaze that seemed to be looking through him, rather than at him. It was all very...nice.

“Well, uh…” Your voice broke the silence, and he realized that he had been staring for just a tad too long than is socially acceptable. His nose and cheeks felt warm as he coughed into his six-fingered fist, turning away and heading toward the vending machine. “See you ‘round, Professor.”

“Please, call me Ford.” The words left his mouth before he could really comprehend them, and when you didn’t say anything immediately, he thought that perhaps he’d made a social faux pas. However, that nagging fear was squelched completely when your smile became far more genuine, eyes lighting up and your head tilting slightly to one side.

“Cool. Nice to meet you, Ford.” Then, pulling out your cellular device, you checked the time (he assumed, because you did nothing past turn on the phone’s lock screen, where the digits flashed briefly before you turned it off again. “I should probably get to work, huh?” You stowed the device back into your hoodie pocket and raised a hand, giving a short wave of farewell as you moved to stand behind the counter.

He stood there for a few seconds longer, contemplating, before turning and disappearing past the vending machine ‘secret door’ that led to his lab. As the door shut with a mechanic whirr behind him, he chanced one last glance back at you, where you were dealing with a customer, that same, generic smile on your face as before.

-

When it came to light that you didn’t necessarily have a place to stay that was reliable, the family (Stanley, Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and, of course, Ford) had a talk to decide what to do about it. Mabel was, of course, open to letting you stay, saying that it’d be like a slumber party. Stan seemed to be more opposed, only because ‘we don’t know who they are’. Before Dipper could even open his mouth to say anything, Mabel exclaimed a gasp of “you’re right” and ran out the door before anyone could stop her. Everyone ran to the door in an attempt to grab her, but she was already hopped up on the counter you were standing behind, an amused smile across your face.

“Hiya! My name’s Mabel. What’s your name?”

You give it, and her eyes light up, smile widening.

“Ooooh I like it! It’s so you!” You chuckle at her enthusiasm. “So, I gotta ask… are you a boy or a girl?”

Dipper smacks a hand to his forehead, dragging it down his face while Stan pinches the bridge of his nose. Ford, however, was watching your face rather carefully, curious as to what you’d say. You were quiet for a moment, and, when you finally opened your mouth, that guarded expression was back on your face, though you were smiling politely.

“No. I’m actually nonbinary-- genderfluid, to be specific, though I usually tend to stay closer to the agender side.” Your hands slide into the safety and comfort of your hoodie pocket, and you tilt your head to one side, wincing when it popped. “I use they/them pronouns, so, if you could go along with that, that’d be pretty awesome of you.”

“Ohmigosh, I’ve never known that someone could say no to that question! Like, ‘no thanks, no gender for me, I’m on a diet’ or something!”

You laugh at that, and Ford’s caught in the way your hand raises to cover your smile, almost as if you were trying to hide it away. And when you opened your eyes, this time, the smile was definitely there, too, making them shine.

“Haven’t heard that one before, but that’s pretty good, Mabel.”

Ford frowned as the others slowly filtered into the room, gathering around this person who was very much an anomaly.

And he didn’t mean that in a mean-spirited way, no. He was fully aware, as a man of science, that gender was something even grander than a spectrum, far surpassing the ‘binary’ that society clung to like a lifeline.

And it was rude of him, in all honesty, to want to know anything more than what you surrendered information-wise, it was just… something about you drew him in.

“So, you’re outside of the binary? That’s pretty cool…” Dipper mumbled, tugging down at his shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles. He and Mabel both had grown since their thirteenth birthday, now official teens with long legs and awkward bodies. So when he moved to lean against the counter and missed, landing on the floor, everyone burst into laughter. Except for Ford, Dipper himself, and you, of course.

“Woah, you alright down there?” you asked, and Dipper’s face flushed in embarrassment as he quickly stumbled to his feet.

“Yep. Yeah, totally. Just, uh, checking out stuff and things.”

You raise a brow at him in amusement, mouth quirking into a smirk, “And things and stuff?”

Thinking about how easily you just kind of… made yourself at home was yet another thing that had Ford puzzled. This was his blood family (save for Soos), and when he emerged from the portal a few years ago, even he had issues with adjusting to their brand of antics. But you just kinda… fit. Like the space was made for you.

-

“Alright, we’re openin’ up shop!” Mabel announced, rather loudly and just as energetic as usual, and you blinked in question when she settled you with a determined smile. “You ready?”

You raised a brow and smiled, “Yup, born ready.”

She opened the door and as a wave of customers came piling in, you felt your face shift into a less natural, but still neutral smile. People coming up to ask questions, people wanting to purchase something, people with small children asking where the bathroom was, all of it was happening at once, and you started to feel a little… overwhelmed.

The front door opened, and you expected another wave of customers to come pouring in to see Stan’s new attractions, but when you saw Ford coming in, wiping soot from his sleeves and picking leaves out of his hair, you breathed a sigh of relief.

A relief that Ford picked up on immediately, frowning slightly as he saw your smile beginning to crack at the edges, and your body language just screamed anxiety. Your hands kept twitching toward your hoodie pocket, which, speaking of, you never seemed to take off. Did you just wash it frequently? And why in the multiverse did that matter to him? It didn’t, really, but he was just...curious.

It wasn’t until you started backing away from all the people, brows furrowing even though your smile spread wider, definitely phony, that he moved from the doorway. Spotting his teenage great niece, he tapped her on the shoulder, expecting her to whip around with that smile of hers-- and that’s exactly what she did.

“Oh, hey Grunkle Ford!”

“Mabel, I believe that our new employee could use a break.” Confused, she turned to look, seeing you smiling and taking money from customers without a care in the world.

“But they seem fine to me? And we just started--”

“Yeah, I’ll take over for a bit… Mabel, you wanna help?” Dipper piped up, moving from where he was reorganizing keychains and heading to the counter. His sister, not to be left behind, pushed him behind her playfully and ran to the counter, laughing.

“Hey!” The suddenness of Mabel’s voice must have startled you, because you dropped the item in your hand, a snowglobe, and your eyes widened and shoulders tensed as it rolled across the countertop. Thankfully, it didn’t break. You breathed another sigh of relief and gave the customer their item, complete with gift bag.

“Hey, Mabel, Dipper. What’s up?”

“Well, y’see, Grunklel Ford thought that maybe you could use a break!”

And Ford fought the strong urge to smack his forehead, because why, of all things, did Mabel have to tell you that?

“Oh…” You chewed on your bottom lip and glanced around, then looked down at Mabel and Dipper. “Am I...doing something wrong, or..?”

“No no no, not at all! I just...hmm… You kinda seemed a little overwhelmed?” Dipper said, though it was also a question, an upward lilt at the end of the last word signifying as such. They watched as you raised a hand to scratch at the buzzed-short side of your head, hands sliding into your hoodie pocket.

“Maybe...a little. I’m not used to being around so many people.” You raise your shoulders closer to your ears and give an uneasy smile. “Is it that obvious..?”

“Only if you know what you’re looking for,” Dipper assured, rubbing at his arm slightly, from t-shirt hem to wrist, his forearm rubbing against his oversized vest. “I tend to get that way, too.”

“Yeah!” Mabel threw her arm around her twin brother’s shoulders, and she gave a million watt smile. “But more importantly, you should try to relax! Maybe grab a drink and sit outside? It’s a beautiful day out!”

Your eyes flit up to meet Ford’s, and he doesn’t realize until then that he’s been staring at you rather intently. But you don’t seem to mind it, or you don’t notice, because the smile you give him is small but warm, and your eyes crinkle at the corners slightly.

“Okay, sure.”

The two kids jump behind the counter for you with an energy unmatched (especially Mabel), and you slide out from behind it and through the crowd of customers and… were you heading towards him? Surely not. But there you were, standing right in front of him, a respectable distance away, hands in your pocket.

“Hey. So, uh… Thanks? For noticing, I mean.” And your voice is so genuine that he feels his ears getting hot, and he just shoves his six-fingered hands into the pockets of his dark slacks.

“It would be unwise for you to get too uncomfortable that you don’t want to stay.”

“...so, is that your way of saying you want me to stick around?”

_Th-thump._

The look on his face must’ve been funny, because you’re laughing next, a beautiful and light sound that made his heart do something funny in his chest.

“You seem a respectable person. There’s no reason not to want someone like you around.” You chuckled again, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the smile you were giving him made him stop short.

  
“Thanks, Ford,” you said, your voice laidback, but there was some undercurrent of _something_ that he couldn’t put a name to beneath it. Gratitude? Maybe. Whatever it is, it’s got his brain a mess, and he gestures to the front door of the shop with a gloved hand.

“Would you like to see something incredible?” he asks, immediately kicking himself for doing so, because why in the multiverse would someone like you be interested in seeing the oddities of Gravity Falls? You’re silent for a long moment, but before he can take back his question, maybe try and talk his way out of it, you nod your head, muttering a soft ‘sure’ under your breath and looking at him expectantly.

And he feels himself begin to smile, thick brows lowering slightly into an expression of daring. “How familiar are you with the legends around Gravity Falls?”

Your eyes flit around, between all the people coming in and his face, and he can tell without even needing to ask that you didn’t really hear him. If you did, then you didn’t grasp what he said. So he motions out the front door and holds it open for you as you walk through gladly. With the door closed, the loud murmur of conversations dulls to a low sound, muffled, and your shoulders relax a bit more. Good.

“Sorry, I uh… sensory stuff.” He nodded, watching as your hands moved while you tried to think of what to say, how to explain, before just shoving them back into the confines of your pocket, giving a shrug. “Yeah…”

Deciding to help you out a little, he shrugged casually, “That’s quite alright. Dipper and I get the same way, at times. It happens to the best of us.” You look up at him, slightly surprised, before that natural, beautiful smile quirks up at the corners of your lips.

“Yeah? ...Cool. Good to know I’m not alone, then.” You sidestepped as more customers came out of a tour bus, allowing them to get to the door. “So, what were you saying?” He kind of takes your lead, letting you lead the two of you further away from the front door, away from the people and the noise.

“I was just curious how familiar you were with the legends surrounding Gravity Falls.” He watches as your eyebrow quirks up a bit, smile fading (and he was surprised by how desperately he wanted it to come back).

“I… honestly? I just kinda… wound up here. I haven’t heard much, outside of a few rumors.” That made him wonder just how you came to be in Gravity Falls, but he didn’t ask. You grinned then, “Why? Is there some mythical being walking the woods around here?”

“Yes, actually.”

Silence-- at least, relative silence, if you were to ignore all the people inside you could still hear-- spanned between the two of you, and your half-lidded eyes widened marginally. You blew out a breath between your lips and waved him off, “Yeah, sure. Next you’re gonna tell me there’s mermaids and stuff.”

“There are.” He caught your hand, in one of his, and your eyes widened again, flinching back slightly, and he quickly let go, ears turning pink. “I um… I can show you, all of that. Dipper could, too. And Mabel. This town is full of anomalies like that.”

“... Prove it.”

Those two words fueled him as he took your hand again, this time no flinching involved, and started with a quick, long-legged pace around the Mystery Shack and into the forest. The trees blocked out all light, towering over the both of you, and you were surprised at how much cooler it felt, just being in the shade. You looked forward to him, only having to adjust your gaze upward slightly to see him. You were pretty tall yourself, him only a few inches taller than you.

His six-fingered grip tightened a bit as you found yourselves stepping over fallen branches, then, after a moment, he let your had go completely so he could scale up one of the massive fallen logs. The tree was about as big around as a tunnel that cars went through, and was impossibly long, even though it had obviously cut up into sections.

You watched him climb it with a practiced ease that made you jealous, and, when he turned around and looked at you expectantly, you frowned the slightest bit. You and heights never exactly got along… but you could manage this, surely, right?

You approached and lifted one foot, digging it into the thick grooved bark of the tree and pushing up. You grabbed hold of one of the ridges, ignoring the spinning feeling in your gut that increased as you ascended.

Ford picked up on this, and silently sort of wished that he had taken you around the tree instead of making you climb over. But to your credit, you did manage to make it, and when your foot slipped out of the groove of bark, he was quick to grab your arm, gloved hand sliding around your wrist, and you grabbed hold of his.

“Gotcha,” he said, giving a small grunt as he pulled you up and onto the tree. You sat with your feet nearly touching, knees splayed out on either side, and released a long breath. When, after a moment, you gave him a thumbs up and a smile, he chuckled. “Had I known you weren’t a fan of heights, I would’ve taken us another way.” You looked surprised, then sheepish.

“Geez, am I that obvious about it…?” And, in all honesty, you were… to him, at least. But, then again, he isn’t usually so focused with a laser precision onto someone’s body language and signs. He was quick to turn his head, pretending to survey the land ahead of them as he waited for the light flush across his cheeks to fade away.

“Only a bit further, if you’re still interested?” He heard a ‘psh’ and turned his head quickly to find you smirking at him, and oh boy, that made his insides do something funny-feeling.

“I mean, I’m already here, right? Might as well see what you’ve got.”

What he’s got? Why, Stanford Pines was going to blow you clear out of the water with what he’s got up his sleeve, what the thick Oregeon forest of Gravity Falls hid within its depths. And he almost said as much, but instead, he just smirked, turning and missing the way your smile dropped into a small frown, cheeks warming and turning a faint shade of pink.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Can only go down from here!” And, okay, you couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, watching as he easily scaled his way down the massive tree trunk, you following close behind.

He didn’t mean to look up. He should’ve kept staring ahead, just like he’d been doing, but the eye-catching color of your hoodie caught his attention. So he found himself staring at your backside for a few seconds longer than was permissible, feeling only slightly dirty enough that he quickly turned his attention back to climbing down. Once his feet touched solid earth, he stepped away, waiting patiently for your descent.

“Shit--!”

He hadn’t expected for you to fall on top of him. You weren’t necessarily big in the way of fat, but you were heavy, solidly built, so it knocked the wind out of him just a little bit. He’d normally go out of his way to chastise you for the curse, saying that it wasn’t necessary or becoming, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself stunned into silence.

Your vibrantly colored hair hung in front of your eyes as you pushed yourself off of him a bit, up onto your hands and knees, which rested on either side of his body. His breathing was light but quick, eyes wide and face pink, and it only got worse as, after a moment, you opened your eyes to look at him. They were unfocused, blurry, at first, but when you seemed to get your bearings of where you were, they became clear again, slowly widening until they were completely open.

There were a few beats where neither of you moved or said anything, and it was awkward, but almost...comforting. His heartbeat thudded heavily against his chest when you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his for half a second before slowly climbing off of him and getting to your feet.

“Sorry ‘bout that. I uh… I’m not the most graceful person, haha.” You were doing that nervous tic again, scratching at the buzzed side of your head, and he wanted to stop you, the urge to run his fingers through your hair stronger than he would have expected. He quickly got to his feet as well, brushing the dirt and grass from his pants and sweater, or what he could reach anyway, and gave a little lopsided smile.

“It’s uh, quite alright. Nothing to worry about!” And it wasn’t, really. Because he didn’t mind… which was a first for him. Normally, any sort of sudden or unplanned physical contact made him flinch away. It was only over the last few summers that he’d gotten used to Mabel’s sudden hugs. But the feeling of your body heat against his was… pleasant. He suddenly found himself wondering what it’d be like to just… be near you. On purpose.

“So, where to now, Ford?” Your voice caught his attention, and he realized where his train of thought was and flushed, raising a hand to point ahead.

“This way. Keep up, now! There are things in this forest that can be quite dangerous, if you don’t know how to interact with them.”

You brush your knees off, brushing the dirt from your loose jeans, and smirk. “Right, I’ll just keep close to you then. ...Hey.” He moved to turn around, but your hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Hold on, you’ve got dirt all over your back.” You gently started brushing the debris away, and he managed to barely contain a shiver. After a few seconds of silence, with the only sounds being that of the creatures in the woods and your hand rubbing against the fabric of his sweater, you stepped to his side, smiling up at him. “There, you’re good now.”

His heart was racing. And he came to a horrible conclusion as you said something, then started walking ahead, and he, after a slight delay, began to follow.

He was attracted to you… by the stars, he was attracted to someone less than half his age. He felt dirty, disgusting. But he couldn’t help the soothing feeling that entered his chest when you turned to him with an excited smile, saying something along the lines of ‘can’t wait to see it’. He smiled back, a crooked, perplexed smile that he’s thankful you didn’t really notice.

This was going to be more difficult than he thought…


	2. Chapter 2

Ford was rather quiet after your little stumble and fall (onto him, of all things, of course), and you were anxious. What if he thought you were totally inappropriate?? Sure, it had been an accident, but your little forehead-touch was completely intentional, and then you went and brushed off his back. You weren’t sure why, you just… it felt nice, having physical contact with someone again. It had been a little while, and… it was almost comforting, the way he grabbed your hand, the way he caught you (albeit unintentionally).

He took the lead again after a few minutes of walking, carefully guiding you. It was very dark in this part of the forest, the lush foliage dense overhead, blocking out almost all sunlight. You weren’t expecting this at all, and you felt your nerves begin to get to you, falling behind a few paces.

“Just ahead, here,” he whispered, his voice soft yet deep, and you quickly and quietly stepped up to where he was, trying your best to keep up with his expert footing. It was almost as though he had the entire forest memorized, knowing it like the back of his hand…

There was a small clearing, the grass and flowers growing here covered with the dappled sunlight coming through the trees above. It was beautiful, you thought, but not something you were expecting. You were expecting something like a mythical creature, or--

You suck in a quiet breath and cover the lower half of your face with your hand, eyes widening as you saw what you assume he’d brought you all this way for.

It was a two headed deer, its fur snow white and thick, despite the heat, and its antlers looked to be made out of carved crystal, just like its hooves. You noted with some amazement that one head appeared to be male while the other was that of a doe. It was eating the blue and white flowers growing on the ground, and when it looked up, you noticed that its eyes looked like the night sky, full of stars. A genuine, awe-struck smile spread wide across your lips, and you grabbed Ford’s arm next to you, feeling him flinch but not pushing you away.

Meanwhile, he was looking at the creature as well...until you grabbed him, anyway. Then his attention turned to your face, so expressive, unlike how it was usually. Stoic, guarded. He could see the shine to your eyes from where he stood so close, close enough to be able to hear your soft breaths as you tried to grasp just what it was you were seeing.

After a few moments of simple staring, he watched with a rapt fascination as you pulled a small sketchbook out of your hoodie pocket, wondering how on earth you managed to keep that hidden, wondering if perhaps your hoodie held some multi-dimensional pocket. You unclipped the mechanical drawing pencil from the ring bindings and flipped open the sketchbook. (And he tried not to look, really, but he saw a whole page of hand drawings, and couldn’t help but notice that some of them had an extra finger.

He watched as you settled down, sitting on a small log just ahead of him, just at the edge of the tree line, to sketch out the creature you were seeing. He watched your hands move with slow strokes of the graphite across smooth paper, watching as the general shape of the creature came to life on the page. Your head was constantly moving between the pad on your lap and the creature before you, eyes narrowed slightly as you tried to take in every single detail.

Something cracked, like a stick being stepped on from the opposite side of the clearing, and the deer-like creature looked up suddenly, eyes wide. You held your breath, as did Ford, though he himself wasn’t aware of it. When it saw the two of you standing there, it slowly backed away, then turned and disappeared into the dense brush on the other side.

You both released your held breaths and looked at one another, your eyes wide with wonder.

“Pretty fascinating, wouldn’t you say?” he whispered, though there was no need to anymore, and you nodded reverently, holding his gaze as your smile split wide across your face.

“Yeah…”

-

When you got back to the Shack, Stan saw you walk in and was just about to give you a lecture, you could tell by the grumpy look on his face. But when he saw his brother walk in, watching you carefully and with an uncharacteristically wide smile on his face, he stayed quiet… then grinned himself.

“So,” he said, waltzing across the main sales floor, wood boards creaking slightly under his weight. When he stopped, it was to lean against the counter that you had moved to stand behind, pointlessly, considering that most of the customers had moved on from the Mystery Shack by now. His grin widened, and you felt yourself smiling nervously. “Where were you two?” The question was accompanied by a raise of eyebrows that was suggesting something you weren’t sure you appreciated.

Ford cleared his throat, garnering Stanley’s attention. “I went out to show them an anomaly living in the forest. It..ended up taking a bit longer than expected. That tree that fell the other day was right in our path, so we had to climb it.”

“You didn’t just go around it?” Stan asked, and at Ford’s choked silence, he laughed, a loud guffaw that made you flinch slightly from the suddenness of it. “Wow, Sixer, and here I thought you were the smart one.”

And for once, Ford had no retaliation. No rebuttal, like he usually did whenever Stanley made comments such as those. Instead, he was looking at you from the corner of his eye, flitting between you and Stan, and he sighed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Stanley. I’m going down to the lab.” He moved to walk past, and you caught sight of Stanley’s frown, but it turned to an expression of surprise when Ford stopped in front of the counter you were behind. “I trust you’ll be joining me? To discuss what we witnessed, and so I can get a copy of your drawing?”

You blinked slowly at him for a moment, long enough that he was starting to doubt himself, but then you nodded and gave that quirky little half smile and circled around the counter. The two of you go in through the vending machine entrance of the lab, and as it’s closing behind you, you hear Stan say something about ‘nerds.’

“I thought I was going to be in trouble, honestly…” you mutter, and Ford just scoffs lightly.

“Nonsense. You were with me, doing research for science! Besides, Mabel and Dipper were here to mind the Shack. You were fine.”

“Mmm, maybe…” The staircase was narrow, and while you had no trouble going down them, you could hear Ford’s shoulders rubbing against the walls every so often as he went down. It made sense, considering how broadly built he was. Maybe not quite as much as Stan, but still…

“Welcome!” He opened the door at the bottom of the staircase and you found yourself staring at an enigma of a room. Things you had no idea what they were resting inside, and, beyond a large window, was a room with what looked like some sort of scientific portal-thing. “Make yourself at home! Just, uh… maybe ask before touching things?” he chuckled, and you nodded, eyes focused solely on that portal. You wiped the dust away from the glass to peer through, and he watched you with rapt fascination, brows raising slightly the more you stared at it.

“What is that thing…?” you ask, and he feels a tug in his chest as he crosses his arms over his sweater, stepping up to stand behind you.

“That is a multi-dimensional portal… Very dangerous.” His eyes took on a darker look, and when you turned and caught sight of it, he struggled to banish it. “Very. Dangerous. You may be unfamiliar, but there was once, a few years ago, a small period of time known simply as Weirdmageddon.”

“Weirdmageddon? … That sounds…”

“Made up?” He chuckled at your guilty look, like you’d ‘been caught. “Yes, I know. However, it was a few of the worst days of Gravity Falls’ existence, when a demon known as Bill Cypher came through and wreaked havoc on the Falls.” 

“Whoa… Seriously?” you murmur, eyes turning from him to focus back on the portal. “...How did that all turn out?”

“Well, obviously,” he began, smiling, “we prevailed. Bill was destroyed, along with all of his henchmen, and the Weirdmageddon was stopped.”

“But…” He closed his mouth as you cut him off, curiosity lingering in your eyes, and he patiently waited as you gathered your thoughts. “...but why have a portal that could bring him? Why is…?”

Ford sighed. “In my youth, I wanted to understand these anomalies at all costs. I ended up making a deal with Bill himself, and he tricked me, of course… Demons make bad deals. He didn’t actually go through that portal.”

“Then, who did..?”

“... I did.” You turn to him then, eyes wide, mouth pulled down into a concerned frown. “It was an accident, of course… I ended up getting lost inside the multiverse. For thirty years.” Your head whips around to look at him now, and when he glances at you, something deep in his chest pulls when he catches sight of the forlorn look on your face.

“I can’t even imagine…”

Your eyes grew misty, and you… stars, you looked like you were about to start crying any minute. So imagine his surprise when a tear did actually fall, getting caught in your bottom lashes for a moment before sliding down your cheek. His hands moved out to … what? To hold you? To touch you comfortingly? But he quickly moved to fold his hands behind his back, squeezing them together anxiously.

“Ha, sorry…” Your voice was just a tad shaky, still full of emotion, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Don’t be. I’m… I’m well over it now.” Lies. He still had the occasional nightmare, but at least he had adjusted fairly well to life back in this universe. “I actually only came back a few years ago, during the summer of Weirdmageddon.” You sniffled and wiped your eyes, chuckling softly.

“The hero had to come back in time to save the day, right?”

“Actually…I wasn’t really the one who saved the day.” You noticed pain flash across his face, before he muttered, “It was Stanley. He… He was the one who really saved us all.” Images in his mind of him being the one who pulled the trigger, tears in his eyes, resurfaced, and he lost himself for a moment in them, the dark feelings swelling up as they tended to do.

Warmth bloomed across his chest, and his hands flinched out from behind his back to stop whatever it was touching him. When he realized it was you, however, he stilled, frozen in place, and he stared down at you in shock as you held yourself to him, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “...Sorry,” you murmured. “You’ve...been through so much.”

“I have,” he mutters, chuckling dryly. “Chalk it up to wisdom and life experience, I suppose.” You shake your head, turning it so that he can feel your breath against his neck. He suppresses a shiver.

“No… You’ve seen some shit.” He chuffs at that, a huff of laughter that’s more surprised than anything, and your arms wrap around his midsection tighter. “All of you have, sure, but you… you especially…”

His hands finally settle on your shoulders, neither pulling you closer nor pushing you away. You stood there for a few long moments before slowly releasing your hold on him, and he’s embarrassed by how badly he wanted you to return to hugging him. His hands, still on your shoulders, gave a firm tug forward without his mind’s consent, and you looked up at him, confusion written clearly on your face. He felt his ears turn red as he looked down at you, even more when realization began to dawn on you, cheeks turning pink.

“I… I believe it would be beneficial to both of us, if… er… that is to say, I--” He was cut off as your arms slid around his torso again, that warm, comforting feeling returning, and he let out a shaky sigh.

Was this just how bad off he was…? That he’d accept hugs from a stranger? Sure, Mabel and occasionally Dipper hugged him, but this was… this was different. Very different. There was a fluttering in his belly that he could only dumbly relate to butterflies as you tucked your head up underneath his chin, and he oh so hesitantly put his hands on your hips.

This… this was okay. This was  _ better  _ than okay. He felt a weight he hadn’t even known had been centered on his chest lift, and he breathed in a slow, deep breath that felt far easier. His awkwardness and anxiety over the situation almost faded completely.

… Almost. Until you nuzzled your head under his chin, your hair tickling his neck, and he drew in a hitched breath. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but the chuckle you gave told him that you’d heard it anyway. His face felt hot as he rubbed his thumbs up and down along your clothed sides, even hotter when you shifted closer, your fronts almost completely touching. He held his hips back so your pelvises didn’t touch, not wanting to be untoward when he was the one who initiated this hug...sort of.

“You’re a great hugger,” you say finally, voice sounding tired, and he gives a little laugh that’s about an octave higher than it should’ve been. He quickly cleared his throat again and shrugged. Your hands slid up and around, going over his chest and shoulders to loop around his neck, and he gasped quietly, eyes widening behind his glasses. “Nah, I mean it. You’re so solid and warm… I could fall asleep standing up like this.”

His mouth felt dry as he gave a rough chuckle, drumming his twelve fingers on your sides. “In that case, perhaps you should go and get some rest?” A beat of silence. “N-not that I’m kicking you out, by any means! I uh… this is… nice.” You look up at him the same moment he tries to look down, and you find yourselves almost nose-to-nose.

“Really…?” you ask, as if that weren’t the most obvious of things right now, and he gives a hesitant little nod. You huff a laugh, and he feels the breath dance across his lips. “Cool.” Your eyes move away from his, and he has a moment to catch his breath. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding his breath until now, and he feels silly for it. “Hey, there’s a couch down here.”

He glances over to where you’re looking and hums in confirmation, but when you look back at him, suddenly looking shy, he feels his heart beat its way up into his throat.

“You wanna… take a nap with me…?”

And it was such an innocent question, but the way his face turned red made you think that you might’ve just asked him to have sex with you. He stammered dumbly for a moment, removing his hands from your shoulders, and your fingers curled into the thick fabric of his sweater. He arches his back slightly away from your fingers, pushing your chests together.

“I-I, uh, I mean, that is to say… well, I really should get back to work…” He chances a glance down at your face, and his heart flips in his chest at the little defeated look, not necessarily on your face, but in your eyes. “...though, I suppose… a small nap wouldn’t do any harm.”

You try and fail to maintain a neutral expression, a smile peeking through on your lips and reaching your eyes in that way he really liked.

“Cool.” You pulled away from him and gently took his hand in yours, leading him over to the couch. It was long enough for him to fit, though his shoulder might just barely hang off the edge, with how broad he is. Releasing his hand, you laid down on the couch, your head on the pillow near the armrest. He stood by, fidgeting with his twelve fingers behind his back, and when you held your arms open to him, he looked away, the flush on his face only growing darker.

“I uh… are you certain that this is something you want to...do?” You rolled your eyes at him and curled your fingers repeatedly in a ‘gimme-gimme’ motion, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, albeit a bit nervously. “I’m going to make breathing difficult if I lay on...er, o-on top of you…” You snagged his hand and gave a firm tug, and he sighed. “Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

He positioned himself, very, very carefully, over you, hesitating for a moment before finally laying down. His weight was heavy, but not too much so, and it was… comforting. That was a good word for it. And, needless to say, he couldn’t help but agree, even though you didn’t voice the sentiment out loud. The steady rise and fall of your chest beneath his head was a comforting thing, almost mesmerizing. His hands were at a bit of a loss of what to do until you slid your arms around his shoulders, resting against the middle of his back. He then decided it best to reciprocate, so he slid his hands between your body and the couch cushions, circling his arms around your waist.

“Is this...okay?” he asked, and he got an affirmative hum from you in response. He released a slow breath and nodded, stopping suddenly when he realized the motion made him nuzzle against your chest. “G-good.” You were… definitely softer than he had expected you to be. And warm. Your breath against the top of his head sent a little shiver through him, and you chuckled, dragging a hand up his back to thread through his hair.

His breath hitched, and you paused, frowning slightly.

“Sorry, was that not--”

“It’s fine,” he muttered quickly, face feeling hot as he felt you thread your fingers back through his surprisingly thick grey hair. Your bitten down nails scratched lightly at his scalp and he was embarrassed when he let out an airy groan, making you falter slightly before continuing.

What was even more embarrassing, though, was how quickly he was already beginning to fall asleep. Normally, it took him a few  _ hours _ to get to sleep, at least three… but laying here like this, with you, was putting him out within a matter of  _ minutes _ .

“No worries, Ford,” you murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll make sure everything’s safe while you sleep.”

His ears felt red and hot, and he just made a broken hum of agreement as you continued to stroke his hair, leaving your lips pressed to his head. Couldn’t really say it bothered him much, though, because with your soothing ministrations and soothing voice, he was out and fast asleep in a few minutes.

  
  
  


You were just about asleep yourself, after around an hour of keeping yourself up. Glancing down at him, you wondered just how little sleep he actually got, if something like this put him to sleep so soundly and so quickly. But as you were about to knock out yourself, you heard footsteps on the stairs leading down.

Thus the dilemma: do you wake him up, ruining the sleep he obviously needed, or do you let him sleep and have to explain yourselves later? Which would he prefer you do?

Too late, though, because when Dipper turned the corner and caught sight of you, his mouth open to call out for his Grunkle, he froze. The only sounds filling the space between the two of you was Ford’s steady breathing, little snores breaking the silence every now and then. You carefully un-threaded your fingers from his hair and held a finger to your lips, pointing down at Ford.

Dipper stayed still for a long time, and you wondered if maybe you’d made a poor decision… but then he just nodded, a bit of a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and he quietly ascended the stairs back to the Mystery Shack above. The quiet whoosh of the secret door closing behind Dipper pulled a sigh of relief from you that ruffled Ford’s hair slightly, and you smiled to yourself.

For all the fronts he put up of not needing any sort of contact, he sure was...well, cuddly. As if on cue, he nuzzled into your chest, bringing warmth to your cheeks.

You supposed that he really needed this… and, if you were completely honest with yourself, you did, too. So you’d indulge in this once in a lifetime chance and not wake him for now, closing your eyes as you could feel sleep tugging on your consciousness, into the comforting darkness of bliss.


	3. Chapter 3

From the way nobody seemed to question when you and Ford would disappear into his lab for a while, it seemed that Dipper was keeping your little secret. You appreciated it, really. You’d hate to get kicked out and sent away… something that you thought about quite frequently. Which is why, despite your desires to get closer to the twelve-fingered Ford, you didn’t make a move.

You did still cuddle with him whenever he asked, of course. But you no longer asked for it yourself.

It was the middle of the night a couple months into the summer when you got up, having spent far too much time on your phone surfing the internet, and padded down the hallway softly to brush your teeth. It was a shared bathroom, so you kept your toothbrush and toothpaste in your borrowed room. Eventually you’d have to find a place of your own, and that… was just a daunting enough task that it brought down your mood a bit.

You squeezed out a bit of toothpaste onto the brush and brought it to your mouth, doing a quick and thorough job of brushing before spitting into the running water in the sink. Rinse and spit, then you were done, and as you turned to leave the bathroom, you were brought nearly face-to-face with Ford himself, and you muffled your yelp of surprise. His eyes widened, pink just barely touching the tips of his ears and across his cheekbones.

“Oh, my apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, it’s cool,” you say quietly as you wait for your racing heartbeat to calm itself. “What’s up?”

His fingers start to toy with themselves, and he quickly puts his hands behind his back so you can’t see him doing it. “Well, I, uhm…” A false start of sorts, he tries again, attempting to sound more confident. “I was wondering if perhaps you’d...like to accompany me this evening.” You raised a brow, keeping your gaze on him as you pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket. When you unlocked it your eyes flit down, and you saw it was well after one in the morning. “That is, I had something I wanted to… talk to you about.” He looked uncomfortable, and you felt a small sense of dread begin to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah, yeah. Sure.” You waited patiently for him to lead, and, when he just stood there staring at you, you raised a brow at him. “Um… Ford?” He looked up slightly, eyes refocusing. “We were going…?” His face took on a reddish hue from his blush as he quickly turned around on his heel.

“Yes! Yes, I- I mean, we, were. Here, we can speak more privately in the lab.” He started off down the hallway and down the stairs, all while you followed, feeling anxiety building up in you.

He was going to say that what you’d been doing, what you started, was unprofessional and inappropriate. He was going to say that he wasn’t comfortable with you staying at the Shack anymore. He was gonna tell Stan and Soos that you shouldn’t be employed there anymore. He was--

You were so swept up in your own spiraling thoughts that you hadn’t even realized you were being led down the staircase to the lab, the door closing with a quiet whoosh behind you. It was that very sound that finally pulled you from your thoughts enough to focus on where you were going, stumbling down the first two steps before you could manage to get your feet under you. His hand tightened on your own and he glanced back at you, a question of whether or not you were alright on his parted lips, but you just sent him an easy smile, giving him a thumbs up with your free hand.

He didn’t look very convinced, but he turned back to watch where he was going, and just that easily the smile fell from your lips.

Once you were safely off the stairs, he released your hand, albeit slowly, and you felt your heart flip in your chest at the way his fingertips grazed the back of your hand when he let go. Why on earth was he affecting you like this? What had changed?

Were you…  _ were you falling for the scientist? _

An abject horror seemed to take over for a moment as panic settled in your gut. Oh no, gods, what were you going to  _ do _ ?

His voice calling your name brought you back to the real world, out of your thoughts, and you relized a little too late that you were picking at the skin on your bottom lip, a small trickle of blood trying to run down your chin. You quickly licked it up and sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, putting on as convincing a smile as you could.

Ford didn’t say anything, but he had just watched you cause yourself harm, and… stars, he felt something in his chest pull at the sight. He wanted to go over, to pull your bottom lip from between your teeth, to… to--

“So…” Your languid voice held a note of nervousness, but you masked it well in your expression. “What’d you need me for? You said you wanted to talk?”

He did, but he’s not sure he appreciates the way you’re suddenly trying to be false with him… Nevertheless, he folded his hands behind his back, walking to stand behind his desk and waiting until you followed to stand on the opposite side of it.

“Honestly, my work has taken me all across the seas with my brother, Stanley, and Gravity Falls is still an enigma of anomalies that I have yet to solve. With Dipper’s additions to my journals, I have a grander view, but there’s still something I can’t seem to grasp…” He reaches one hand from behind his back and pushes his glasses up further on his nose, looking out at you with the faintest of blushes across his cheeks. “I will admit that you are… an anomaly to me. But I mean that only in the best of ways!” he interjects as he sees your eyebrow raise, frown pulling down the corners of your mouth. “The most amazing of ways. You… You are the greatest mystery within these walls, and I have yet to unravel even a small portion of that mystery… and it is, quite honestly, driving me insane.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but your face otherwise remains neutral, so he continues.

“I find myself wanting to take naps more often, despite how… impractical they are, and how I formerly thought of them as a waste of my time. With you, they’re...not… a waste of time, that is.”

You snort, “‘s not a waste of time, anyway. You could stand to get a little more sleep,  _ Professor Pines. _ ” And that title… while before, it rang true, coming from you now it just feels… stiff, and formal, and so unnecessary. He’s about to tell you so when you’re speaking again, your hands retreating into your hoodie. “So what was it you were wanting to talk to me about, exactly…? I mean, you’ve said stuff, but nothing that really comes together as a solid thought.”

“I suppose I have, haven’t I…?” he mumbles, trailing off a bit, appearing to be deep in thought. When he snaps out of it, the flush on his face is a shade or two darker, and he’s circling around the desk. “Well, allow me to--” He stops when you take a polite step back from him, and he almost looks hurt… for a split second, his brows furrow slightly, and he stops in his tracks. But then he’s holding his six-fingered hand out to you, and you look down at it.

Now that you’re really looking at it, you notice the extra digit, and your hands move to take his in both of yours without much thought. You tap the tip of each finger with your index, then run your fingertips along the length of his, down to his palm. He shivers, hoping you don’t notice as his fingers curl slightly around yours.

“What I mean to say is… you fascinate me.” That manages to capture your gaze, looking up at him with a look of surprise on your face, and he presses onward through your silence. “I am… curious, about you. You just showed up one day, here in Gravity Falls, Oregon. No family. No friends.” At this you avert your gaze, staring hard at his fingers, which are twitching around yours. Sensing he’d been rude, but not really in a position to apologize without derailing his train of thought, he continued. “Yet you found your own place, so easily, where I struggled… still struggle. I … would like to know more about you, if I can. If you’ll allow me.”

You’re so quiet for so long, he wonders if maybe he was asleep, and this was some sort of dream… but then you snort, your voice a dull murmur. “Curiosity killed the cat--”

“--but satisfaction brought it back,” he finished, and you looked up at him, a tinge of pink on your cheeks that made him want to… to do something, he just didn’t know what.

“So you want an interview, basically? ...Sure, I can do that.” You release his hand, and he tries to ignore the way he longs the warmth of your hands as you walk across the room to sit on the couch. It creaks under your weight as you get comfortable, one leg tucked under you. “On the condition that… should there be any questions I’m uncomfortable with, I can pass on them.”

“Yes. Yes, of course!” Too eager, too excited. He cleared his throat and repeated himself, muttering a quiet ‘yes’ as he moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch. You seemed to be wanting space, and so he was going to give you that. “Though I would hope my questions wouldn’t make you uncomfortable… I have had the tendency to forget myself. So I apologize in advance, should that happen.”

“It’s fine, I understand. Go ahead.”

And now was his big chance, to unravel the mystery that is you… yet, he found himself faltering on what to ask. Frowning slightly, he brought a hand up to his chin, index finger rubbing at his stubble as his mind worked furiously on trying to decide  _ what to ask _ . You waited patiently, if only looking a little tired because of the hour. It was then that Ford realized that he didn’t want to get to know you through some interview. He wanted to know you… personally.

“I, ah...apologize--”

“You’ve already done that,” you say lazily, and he chuckles despite his nerves.

“Yes, well, the thing is… I don’t really know what to ask.”

“...Well, we could always...trade? Information, that is.” He raised a brow, intrigued as you continued. “You ask a question, then you answer one… sound fair?” And it was… well, it was genius, really. Though he had to make sure…

“So long as the rule about being able to pass a question pertains to myself, as well…?”

You snorted and rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. “No, I’m gonna make unfair rules and not let you have an out from an uncomfortable question. ...Yes, Professor Pines, you have an out.”

“Ford. ...Just, Ford, if you’d please.” He watched your face carefully, only realizing after a few seconds that you were doing the very same to him. In hopes of breaking the tension, he gave a small smile, which you mirrored after a few, dragging seconds.

“Right… my bad.”

“Quite alright. … So, first question…” He thought hard for a moment, then snapped his fingers, noticing how your eyes flit over to his hand before going back to his face. “Do you have any family outside of Oregon?”

“Nah, I just kinda spawned from a rift in the sky one day, just plopped right down into the middle of nowhere in Oregon.” You said it so casually that he found himself blinking at you, though the way you laughed at his expression brought redness to his ears. “I have the kind of family most other people have. They’re all in the midwest, though.”

“Any siblings?”

“That’s two, you cheater.” You chuckled and relaxed a bit, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I have three siblings. Two brothers and a sister.” Cracking one eye open, you spotted him, a burning question on the tip of his tongue that you went ahead and answered, a laugh in your voice. “All younger. I was the oldest.”

“A fellow older sibling, I see. Fascinating.” With the way he said the word ‘fascinating’, you’d have expected him to be jotting down notes into a notebook while you talked, but that would be silly.

“Alright, my turn.” You thought for a moment, then smiled. “What made you so interested in chasing anomalies and the unknown?” He blinked in surprise, then held up his hand, palm facing toward you.

“Being one makes for pretty good motivation,” he said simply, and you hand raises to press against his hand without thinking. He flinches away momentarily, and you start to pull away, but the firm press of his hand against yours makes you stop. Slowly, he curls his broad fingers around yours, until, eventually, your thin fingers are tucked between his, palms still touching. You see his throat bob as he swallows, an awkward chuckle escaping him as he lowers your hands to rest on the space on the couch between you.

“Fair point… Your turn.”

“Right, okay… What made you come to Gravity Falls?”

“...” You’re so silent that he fears he may have asked something awful, but it was an honest enough query! And you had the chance to back out of a question should you decide to, so your silence troubled him. He was just about to call your name to get your attention when you spoke, your voice soft. “I was… heh. Not everybody is as…  _ accepting _ … as your family. About, y’know… me being  _ different _ .” He frowned slightly, but said nothing, hoping to coax you into saying more, to elaborate. “My family loved me, and I loved them, but they… they didn’t understand, and they never could. I was tired of living as a-- … as something I’m not. So I came here, for a fresh start, I guess.”

“...I’m sor--”

“No.” You met his eyes and shook your head, a sad smile on your face. “Don’t be. Not your fault.” There was a pause before you blinked, chuckling quietly. “Oops, my turn, huh? Uhm…” You fiddled with your connected hands, and he scooted a bit closer, just a bit. “Okay. What’s your favorite food?” He raised a brow, not at all expecting that sort of question, and you laughed. “Hey, it’s a valid question!”

“I… to be honest, I don’t really know anymore. I’m...not much of a cook, sadly,” he looked sheepish at that admission, and you giggled quietly. “Anyway, when I was… when I was through the portal, I just kind of survived. I didn’t really think about what I was eating, outside of ‘will it hurt me’ or ‘is it toxic’. We eat at the diner on occasion, or order take-out mostly, especially while the kids are staying here. But...I guess I just don’t really have a favorite food anymore.”

“Well, I’m gonna change that. We can make something, and you’re gonna love it.” You said it so surely that he didn’t even question it himself, just smiling along with you.

“Okay, next question…hm?” You scooted a bit closer to him, until his hand grazed the side of your thigh, and he had to think very hard to keep himself focused on what he was saying. “You… said that you are nonbinary, correct? Most commonly agender, to be more specific?” You tense at this question, he noticed, and his thumb rubs small circles on the back of your hand out of reflex. When you nod, he continues. “Are you… erm. Do you experience… attraction, to other nonbinary people, such as yourself? Or…” He trailed off, unsure of where he was going. This was a terrible question, to be honest, but you relaxed marginally, and he pushed his glasses up a bit as he looked across to you.

“Depends. What kind of attraction we talking? … I assume you mean sexual.” He cleared his throat and nodded slowly, glancing away from you.

“Yes, that, er… that is what I was pondering.” Your laugh makes his cheeks redden and his stomach do little flips.

“It’s fine. And I’m asexual, actually… so I don’t experience sexual attraction.” He made a small hum of understanding, and you fiddle a little more with your fingers laced with his, squeezing. “That isn’t to say that I’d be opposed to the act, should the mood strike me. Sexuality doesn’t equal libido or desire.” He coughed, covering it with his free hand, and you snorted back a laugh. “Hey, you asked.”

“Yes, I did. Thank you for answering that, uh… rather invasive question. I apologize for being rude.”

You shook your head, “Nah, not rude. You’re just curious, I get it.” The word ‘curious’ makes something in his chest burn, but he ignores it, giving a nod. “Okay, my question now.” Ford waited patiently as you thought of one, his thumb still rubbing circles against the soft skin of your hand, and he only even noticed he was doing it when you started doing it back, dragging your thumb against the back of his hand in a soft stroking motion. A flush rose from his neck to his ears, and he couldn’t help the little squeeze he gave your hand in return. “I got one.” A small hum of question from him, and you raised your eyes to meet his, surprising him with what he saw there. Something just a touch darker, something deeply provoking, was hidden behind your eyes that he just managed to catch a glimpse of. “Why did you ask about my sexuality?”

His ears felt hot, the silence buzzing between his ears as he struggled to come up with a proper answer that was also truthful, but not too truthful. His expression was quite a sight, a crooked frown his lips and his thick brows furrowed. And, to you, he looked so oddly attractive like that. Not in a sexual way, but just… in a way. It made you want to lean in to kiss him, to comfort away that look, and that part of yourself scared you. You didn’t think you were ready to bring up romantic feelings with Stanford Pines.

“I… in all honesty, I was just… curious.” His answer was weak, and you knew that it was a cop-out answer. Whether or not to press him for more was on your mind, though you knew he could just skip the question altogether. Before you could decide either way, you felt him squeeze your hand hard, and you could’ve sworn you felt it trembling. When you look back up at his face, his eyes are narrowed, skin burning a bright red, brows furrowed… You decided to be merciful.

“Your turn.”

He breathed out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding and glanced over at you, and you were quick to avert your gaze.

“... Have you… ever heard of a game called DD&D?” You perked up at that, swiveling back toward him.

“You mean… Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons?” Your eyes met, and slowly, smiles spread wide across your face.

You knew how you’d be spending the rest of the evening.

-

“--and the fair Princess beckons you forth with a bat of her eyelashes.” Ford bat his eyelashes, and his voice raised a few octaves, and you stifled giggles as he spoke. ‘I have been waiting for you, my valiant knight in shining armor! Please come forth so that I may give you your reward. Simply choose.’ She holds two hands out in fists, turned face down. ...What do you do?”

He watched as your elation to his voice (which, honestly, made him feel only marginally embarrassed) turned to intrigue, hand raising from your hoodie pocket to hold your chin in mock thought. “Hmm… I approach her, and kneel before her throne.”

“‘There is no need to kneel before me, my brave knight. Please, come hither.’” You cock an eyebrow at him with that, a smile playing at your lips.

“Come hither?”

He shushes you and gestures down to the gridded game board, where your pieces both sit. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, obviously, I get up and walk over to her… and choose her left hand.” He chuckles, and you feel something drop in the pit of your stomach in response. What was he up to…?

“The princess opens her hand to reveal… nothing.”

“Wait, what?? Nothing??” He grins, and you feel yourself frown a bit thoughtfully. “Hm… I take her hand in mine--” You surprise him by taking his hand in yours--his left hand, even, and continue. “And say, ‘If I may be so bold, my fair princess, I would like to speak. For no gold nor jewels can compare to the treasure which I seek.’” Ford just stares at you, shocked as you went on a whole poetic spree out of nowhere. “‘And if I were to never ask, it would surely be remiss...but all I want from you, princess, is a plain and simple...kiss.’” He stared hard at you, eyes widened slightly, and felt a flush creeping up his cheekbones. You were quiet, looking at him expectantly, and all he could think to do is nod.

“Yes…” You raised a brow at him, and he was confused… until he realized that you were asking the princess. “Oh! I-I mean, ‘Yes, m-my fair knight! I shall grant you one kiss.’” His voice cracked on the higher octave, and you chuckled at him, making him even more flustered than he already felt.

“I lean in and carefully press a kiss to the princesses cheek.” You wait a moment, then, chewing your bottom lip, turn to him, and he feels his heart stop in his chest… before ramping up incredibly quickly as you lean closer to him.

Oh stars, what was happening? Were you actually going to--

He squeezed his eyes closed, and you snorted, leaning in the rest of the way to quickly place a kiss upon his reddened cheekbone. You sat back cross-legged at your spot on the opposite side of the board, moving your character away from the princess at her throne. “So… that was a pretty good adventure.”

“Pretty good?” he parroted, brow raising as he opened his eyes. “My dear, I am an expert at Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons.” You tsked and waved your index finger, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You may be an expert, but I am a  _ master _ .” He watched as you cleared the board, pulling out your phone and bringing up what looked like character sheets on it. “Make a quick character, because I’m about to show you something  _ amazing _ .”

He felt a shiver of excitement go through him, his curiosity piquing, and he smiled as he pulled out a fresh character sheet and began writing.

-

Several hours later, he found himself fighting to keep his eyes open. The sounds of people moving around upstairs told him what his lack of windows couldn’t, and what the clock on his phone confirmed: it was daytime. It was normal for him to have an all-nighter, but not so usual was it to find himself sitting on the couch, the original first edition copy of the DD&D manual on his lap, flipped open to a random page… and you, curled into his side, fast asleep. You’d pulled your knees into your hoodie and had started off sitting next to him, but as you fell asleep, you slumped over, thus leading to this predicament.

He glanced down at you and noticed a gap in the neckline of your hoodie and your chest, and he flushed, quickly looking away again. He may have his curiosities, but he wasn’t a complete pervert.

...Or, was he?

Stanford never got to ask the question burning on his mind the most, about how old you were. Stars, he hoped you were old enough. Old enough to know that getting into some semblance of a relationship with an old man like him was a mistake… but he didn’t think you were.

And, were he to be honest with himself, he didn’t want you to be, either.

His fingers tightened around your shoulder, his arm moving to pull you in closer, and he hesitated...before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Damn it all.”

Who knew that romance could be so tricky… especially as one grew older?

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs startled him enough that he jumped, and that caused a chain reaction which woke you up, throwing your head back in your half-wakened state to hit him directly in the jaw. You kicked your legs out of your hoodie and rolled away, falling onto the floor with a thud.

When Dipper and Mabel came down the stairs and into the lab, their ecstatic faces faded into confusion (for Mabel) and a knowing look (from Dipper). Ford held his chin in one hand and got to his feet, eyes flitting between the teen’s faces and yours from where you laid on the floor, blinking in utter confusion.

“Dipper! Mabel! Morning!” The dark circles under his eyes spoke of the long night awake he’d had, and Dipper fought to keep the smile off his face.

“Hey Grunkle Ford--”

“HEY! Grunkle Ford! It’s not morning anymore, silly, it’s almost noon! Were you awake all night again??” The teen girl put on something of a disappointed face, and Dipper’s eyes widened at what his sister was insinuating without knowing.

“No! No, no, I, uh, was just having a talk with--” He stopped short when he felt a hand take his, and you nearly toppled him over as you tried to pull yourself up. He grounded his feet and tugged, and you were up easily, smiling at him. “Yes, we were just playing some DD&D and discussing the finer details of campaign running. They ran a fascinating campaign, Dipper, I’m sure you’d be enthralled.”

“Nerd alert! Nerd alert! That’s not what we came down here for, though.” Ford raised a brow over his glasses as Mabel pointed at him, then at you, grinning ear to ear. “We’re going swimming today, so get changed! Grunkle Stan is packing a cooler lunch!”

“What?? Hold on, I’m not sure if--”

“Awww, c’mon, it’ll be fun! You’ve had enough of this nerd stuff, time to get out in the sun and have some adventure!”

You looked uncertain, and he could feel it coming off of you, enough so that he opened his mouth to say something…

“Okay. Sounds cool.” Your voice cut him off, hands shoved into your hoodie pocket. “We’ll meet you guys there. Sound good?”

“YES! Okay, this is awesome! Maybe I’ll get to see Mermando!”

“Mabel, you realize that he lives in the ocean, right? We’re just going to the pool--” Dipper’s voice trailed off as his sister turned to him, a tearful look on her face. “--buuuut I mean, he might be there! Yeah! Or maybe he’ll send you another bottle message??” The tearful look disappeared in an instant, being replaced by a large smile. She dragged her twin out of the room and back up the stairs, and Ford sighed in relief. When he heard the subtle whoosh of the door closing, he turned to you, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry about her… She’s… excitable.”

“Hey, it’s fine.” You smiled, and he felt his heart do little flipflops in his chest. “I’m just … I mean, I don’t have a swim suit…”

“O-oh…” And… he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. He wasn’t aware of what sort of...erm, anatomy, you had, and thus what sort of suit you needed… or even wanted.

“Hey, do you have a pair of trunks I can borrow? And a t-shirt maybe?” He blinked, rolling the words you said over in his mind for a moment before his brain responded.

“Yes. Yes, I believe so. Though you’ll have to forgive me, they’re probably too large for you.”

“S’ alright, that’s what a drawstring is for, right?”

He chuckled and let go of your hand (how long had he been holding it???) and crossed the small living space, reaching into his dresser’s middle drawer and pulling out a pair of worn blue trunks. Next was the shirt, which he pulled out of the very, very neatly folded stack in the drawer above it. He handed both to you wordlessly, and you took them with a grateful smile.

“Thanks. I’ll… go get changed, I guess. You probably should, too.”

“R-right, yes.”

You gave him a little smile as you turned and went up the stairs, and he counted each creak until the whoosh of the door. With a sigh he turned back to his dresser, digging through to find a second swimsuit while his mind was busy at work.

His curiosity was really starting to get to him, and he didn’t want to do anything untoward or … god forbid, inappropriate, especially with someone so much younger than he was. Sure, you were an adult, but what would it say about him if he were to try peeking or something while you were changing-- WHERE DID THAT THOUGHT COME FROM???

He shook his head fervently, blush creeping up to the tips of his ears, very nearly fogging up his glasses.

He ripped the spare pair of trunks out of his dresser and quickly changed, moving to go upstairs but catching sight of himself in the reflection of one of his screens. He was… Christ, he was pale. He had a farmer’s tan from all the time he spent outdoors searching for anomalies with Dipper or his brother, and he...honestly, had a bit of a gut now. Not nearly as much as Stanley, but it came with age, unfortunately. He frowned at his reflection then, after a moment of thought, turned back to his dresser and pulled out a second t-shirt. He pulled it on over his head, glasses slightly askew from the movement, and he raised a hand to right them.

Mabel’s excited voice was calling for everyone upstairs, and he felt himself smiling fondly despite his current mood, a sigh escaping him.

Today was gonna be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time everyone got to the pool, it was already fairly full. Stanford found himself silently wishing that he’d tried harder to find some way out of this, because for as uncomfortable as he felt, you looked even worse. Sure, you were still smiling, like you always were, but your eyes were darting around, and your hands were fidgeting noticeably inside the pocket of your hoodie until you were forced to remove it.

Meanwhile, Mabel dragged Dipper into the pool with a hoot and a holler (from each respectively), and when they resurfaced Ford gathered that the water was cold. Dipper shivered as Mabel tossed her hair out from her face, laughing.

“Yeah, you kids just keep it down! I’m gonna catch a nap,” Stan gruffed, heading over to His Chair and laying down. He really looked quite ridiculous, wearing a full-body swim suit like that when around the house he walked around in boxers at times. Only if you caught him early enough, though. He seemed to be aging more quickly than Ford himself was, though… Sure, they still looked identical, for the most part, but Stanley complained about aches and pains, while Ford was… not.

He shook the saddening thoughts from his head when he felt your pinky hesitantly loop around his extra digit, and he huffed out a breath, taking your hand in his firmly.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” he asked, expecting you to nod. So when you didn’t, but instead just looked up at him with that nervous look, he gave your hand a squeeze.

“There’s a lot of people,  _ and _ I have to be exposed… this is… kind of the worst, haha.” You chuckle despite what you’ve just said, and he frowns.

“What is it you’re so nervous about, exactly…?” he asks gently, glancing over to the pool again when Mabel’s friend Grenda’s cannonball sent a splash of water onto their feet. When he looked back at you, you were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, and he, once again, fought that powerful, odd urge to pull it out from between them with his thumb.

“I just… I’m worried about being…exposed.” He watches you glance down at yourself, at your white t-shirt and blue trunks, and sigh. “I wish this shirt was a different color…”

“Huh?” Confusion settled in his mind. A different color…? What in the multiverse did that matter??

“Hey Grunkle Ford! Get in already!” The two of you just managed to turn your attention back to the teens in the pool when a wave of water came splashing at the both of you, soaking you from head to toe.

“What if I had my laser pistol on me??”

“Ah, get over it, Poindexter. You’re at the  _ pool _ and expect not to get wet??” came Stanley’s reply, and Ford clenched his hands into fists at his sides, reaching up to wipe his wet bangs from in front of his eyes. He removed his glasses to try and wipe them off, only to realize that he had nothing dry to wipe them on. He twisted his upper half and found a section of his black t-shirt that was covering his back to dry them off with.

“Well, we obviously weren’t ready to. We still had our shirts on, right--” He turned to look at you, but suddenly wished he hadn’t. You were backed away from him, arms wrapped tightly around your chest, though he could still see what looked like a cut-off tank top through the now semi-transparent wet t-shirt. That wasn’t what he regret seeing, though. He regret looking because of the look on your face, water clinging to your lashes, looking like you were about to cry. And of course now it makes sense, why you were lamenting the fact it was a white t-shirt. Without thinking, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away, ignoring the calls of his great niece and nephew and his twin brother. You merely followed, your wet hair hanging in front of your eyes and making it difficult for him to gauge your expression.

He finally stopped when they were a decent enough distance away, the woods wrapping securely around them. This part of the forest was relatively safe, he knew, with only the stray gnome or two wandering this close to town.

“There,” he huffed, realizing that he’d been walking rather quickly from the way you panted next to him. “We should be safe here.” You mumbled something weakly, and, when he made a sound of questioning, you looked up at him, hand unwrapping from your torso to brush your hair out of your eyes.

“...’m sorry.” You looked so...sad. Rejected, when nothing had even happened. But, then again, maybe something had and he wasn’t present for it?

“Why?” he found himself asking without meaning to, and when you just huffed a humorless laugh, he realized what the problem was.

“Everyone saw. Now everyone’ll know that I’m just…” You couldn’t finish, trailing off as you gently pulled your hand away from his and wrapped them tightly around your figure. The shirt was sticking rather badly in places, and he flushed brightly when he saw the beginnings of cleavage through the top of the binder you were wearing.

Frowning, thinking, Stanford did the next best thing he could offer. He stepped away and carefully pulled his shirt off over his head. When his face reemerged, it was red as a beet, and he held the clothing item out to you with a small clearing of his throat to get your attention.

You looked up and he was quick to turn away, stumbling over his words for a moment before he could colace his thoughts into something intelligible.

“Here. If them seeing, er… seeing  _ it _ is the problem, then wear this. Even if it’s wet, you can’t see through it.” His eyes flit over to you, only to realize you were staring, not at the shirt, not at his face, but his body, and he immediately felt self-conscious. The scars littering his body were numerous, be it from a creature attack or a weapon, and he could practically feel your eyes pouring over each and every one. When you didn’t move to take it, he held it out a little further. “Come now, put this on and give me that one…”

He doesn’t look at you, but he feels you take the shirt, letting it slip from between his blunt fingertips, and it takes him a few seconds of hearing the shuffling of wet fabric to realize you were changing...right there. He turned around, out of decency and just plain being polite, and folded his hands behind his back, fingers fiddling slightly out of nervousness.

“Those darn kids,” he ended up saying, chuckling to himself. “I don’t believe they realized what sort of position they put you in today… I’m sure if we explained, then they’d apologize--”

The feeling of wet fabric being pressed into the hands behind his back made him jump slightly, and he turned around to see that you had, indeed, changed. You were still refusing to look at him, and that made a crooked little frown tug down at his lips. Without another thought, he turned around and stepped toward you, index finger tucking under your chin and turning it upward to look at him. Your eyes widened, glassy from holding back tears, and something in his chest gave a rather solid  _ thump _ at the sight. After a moment, you turned your face away, mumbling under your breath.

“Sorry… this’s all my fault. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It was all just an unfortunate circumstance… that’s all,” he offers, though when you mutter something darkly under your breath, he feels his heart lurch.

“ _ I’m an unfortunate circumstance. _ ”

It’s not really ‘a thing’, as the kids say. It doesn’t even really make sense. But what it does make is it makes Ford feel something curl in the base of his gut, cold and writhing, and he wants, no,  _ needs _ to make you think otherwise. So it’s with that intention that he turns your face back to look at him gently, your chin small in his hand.

“You most certainly are not an ‘unfortunate circumstance’, or anything unfortunate for that matter!” He’s embarrassingly passionate as he says this, but it’s well worth it if he gets to see that particular look on your face. ‘That look’ being your eyes wide and bright, lips parted, a flush slowly rising up over your cheeks. “You are… an anomaly, but a beautiful one.” Shit, what was he saying?? “Everything about you just… captivates me.” No no no no you can’t be saying this, Ford! He was rambling now, a nervous yet warm energy settled in his belly and nothing seemed to be quelling it. “And not in just in a scientific way… but in a more, ahem… personal way.” The silence stretched on, your shocked expression, his shirt and shorts clinging to your figure, all of it muddling his brain and making it difficult to think. Just being in proximity to you makes it difficult to think. Why did he think this was a good idea? Because he didn’t  _ think _ .

Before he can withdraw what he said, or even try to explain in a more rational train of thought, the feeling of warmth on his chest pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. He glanced down and saw that you’d put your hands on his pectorals, sliding them up slowly to rest on his shoulders, and he tried not to shiver from the contact. When he glanced back up, it was to stare into your eyes, suddenly so much more captivating, so much closer, than they were a second ago. Your breath mingled with his, fluttered against his lips, making them part slightly.

It had been many, many, many years since the last time Stanford PInes had kissed anyone, but there he was, a man who just recently turned sixty years old, kissing the one person he’d thought more about kissing than anyone else in his entire life.

It was short, and he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so they hovered over your body. You were quick to pull away, a murmur of an apology on your lips, and stars, he wanted to take that apology and shatter it.

“I was just… you were saying those things, and I just felt--... I’m sor--”

“Please.” His hands raised up to gently grasp your wrists, keeping you from pulling away unless you really wanted to. He smiled a slightly sad smile. “Unless you didn’t mean it, don’t apologize.”

He watches as you fumble, muttering under your breath in thought, before looking up at him shyly. (That shy expression was exquisite, really, your ears pink and eyes shining… He’d travel through the multiverse all over again just to see it.) When you murmured that you did, in fact, mean it, he felt his heart beat erratically in his chest. Enough that he pulled one hand away from yours to check his pulse. Everything was normal, just elevated… he just  _ felt _ like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

“Ford…?” Your voice broke his concentration, and he realized only then that perhaps he’d worried you.

“Everything is fine. Just… I’m not, ehm… used to feeling like this.”

“...Like what?” you ask, and he feels his already pink face turn a darker shade.

“Hm… flustered would be a good word for it,” he decides, reclaiming your wrist and pulling them gently off of his shoulders so he could interlace your fingers together.

“Why?”

“Why? … Why.” He repeated the word to himself quietly, thinking over what exactly he wanted to say, how to word it. “Well, I… confounded, I hadn’t really thought of why yet. I just…” His face felt hot, and he reached a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, brushing through the short hair at the nape. “I suppose I wasn’t really quite expecting for someone like you to… k-kiss… someone like me.” He saw that darkness settle over your eyes, and he was quick to remedy it. “N-not that I disliked it! Because I rather enjoyed-- … I-I mean, it would be nice if we could-- …” He looked up at you hopelessly, frowning as you stared on in wonder. “Words are… difficult to grasp right now. You’ve turned my brain into a level 20 slime.” Wow Ford, a DD&D reference outside the game? Okay. “I-I just mean that… should you want to… and you, you know… don’t mind it being with someone like me…”

“What does that mean…? ‘Someone like you’?” you ask, curious and quiet, and he feels the words lodge in his throat. He swallows past them, trying to gather the nerve to say what he’s really thinking, but it just won’t come. “Because, if I’m being honest…” you continued, merciful in not making him say what was on his mind. “You’re one hell of a catch, while I’m just...me.”

“Me? A hell of a catch…?” he says in disbelief, almost wanting to laugh, but the sudden way you level him with a serious look silences any laughter on his lips.

“I mean, you’ve got brains, personality, a sense of humor…” Your voice dips down a bit as you pointedly look him over. “Looks…” and it’s only then he realizes he’s still not wearing a shirt. With a hot flush, he quickly struggles into the wet t-shirt, pulling it down over his chest and abdomen.

“And you’re to say you lack those things?” he asks, surprising you, obviously, and he continues, “Regardless of how we view ourselves, it appears that there is a mutual… attraction here. Correct?” You nodded slowly, and he cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. … This is certainly a series of events I didn’t forsee.” You chuckle at his choice of words, and ask him if that’s a bad thing. He grabs your hand, “No, no, not at all.”

-

By the time you got back to the pool, the teens were all sitting on the edge of the pool with their legs in the water, chatting amongst themselves. Stan was snoring loudly from his spot in His Chair, and the other patrons of the pool were doing their own thing amongst themselves.

Ford tries not to be bothered by the way you detach your hands once you come into view and, when he glances over at you, you’re staring at the teens with a guarded expression. Were you mad at them for exposing you? He hoped not. Surely you understood that it was a simple accident… even if the splashing had been intentional.

“Oh! Hey, you two!” Mabel piped up, garnering everyone else’s attention as they all turned to look at you. The teen’s smile faded slightly seeing your expression, and she leaned forward, “Hey, um… I wanted to say sor--”

You took off. Despite the ‘NO RUNNING’ signs posted everywhere, you ran, ignoring the whistle from the crazed lifeguard. You jumped over their heads, quite a feat, considering they were too stunned to duck, and you cannonballed right into the center of their little gathering, splashing water all over all of them.

He stumbles a few steps forward, looking for you under the water, wondering if you were even able to swim in your binder, concerned about the effect it might have on your body… but then you resurfaced with a gasp, and a laugh, so bright and innocent, that he felt all those fears fade into background noise. The teens, once they recovered from their shock, started laughing as well, and slid back into the water to engage in a splash fight with you. And there was something so innocent about it, so childlike… that he felt something dark nagging at the back of his mind.

_ You’re far too young to be with someone like him… _

He managed to keep the smile on his face, though it dimmed slightly, as he walked past the splashing group and around the edge of the pool over to where his brother lay suntanning. He chose a chair sitting in the shade next to his and laid down, one knee bent, his hands folded on his stomach.

“So, you finally did it, huh Sixer?” Stan’s voice startled him momentarily, having thought he was asleep, and Ford frowned.

“Did what?” Stanley lowered his sunglasses and peered over the top of them at his twin, his expression saying something along the lines of ‘really? I’m not stupid,’ and Ford felt his frown deepen. “I’d appreciate knowing what I’m being accused of, Stanley.”

“Oh come on! You two are so obvious it hurts. Like a couple ‘a baby deer stumbling around trying to kiss one another.” Stan’s lips curved up into a smirk, and Ford felt his face warm in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat. “Did you kiss ‘em?”

“I-- not, not that it’s any of your business, but…” he trailed off, voice fading the more he looked at his brother’s face, the higher that smirk got.

“You didn’t, did you? They kissed you.” Ford looked away, averting his gaze, and Stanley laughed loudly, prompting the older Pines twin to shush him, eyes flitting over to where you were still playing with the kids in the pool. “So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

Again, that voice in the back of his mind, spoke, dark and cold, and he felt himself tense.  _ Nothing, because they deserve to have a full life. _

“Stanley, you and I both know that this is just… just…”

“...Just what? A summer fling?” Stan snorted and replaced his sunglasses, laying back against his chair. “Because you don’t have summer flings, Poindexter. Not your style.”

He was right, Ford knew, but still, to have it laid out in such simple words was...disconcerting. It seemed that, even though they’d spent so many years apart, they still knew each other almost as well as the back of their hand.

“And anyway, you actually  _ like _ them. Like, a lot, if the way you stumble around them means anything.”

“H-how are you so sure about that? You’re no mind reader Stanley--”

“You’re not exactly the best at being subtle, Sixer.”

A new kind of fear churned in his gut, his fingers tightening around themselves where they rested against his stomach. If he was really so obvious, then maybe you were only doing this...because he had feelings for you? Stars, what if that was it? The kiss on the cheek during DD&D, the kiss on the lips, staying up late with him when you’d so clearly wanted to go to sleep… the way you’d stopped asking to take naps with him after that first time. What if he really was just some dirty old man who was holding you back? What if--

“--ixer? … Hey, Ford!” A heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, and Ford jumped, turning to look over at his twin, whose brows were furrowed over his sunglasses. “Geez, your brain just likes to screw off to another dimension sometimes, you know that?” Stanley removed his hand, moving himself to sit up with his legs hanging off the side of his lounge chair. “Listen… Whatever you’re thinking right now, you’re probably  _ over  _ thinking. It’s not that complicated--”

“But it  _ is _ , Stanley! They’re just so…  _ young _ …” The last word was a whisper, but Stanley was still able to catch it, his frown turning into something more understanding. “They have their whole life ahead of them, and I’m just…” he sighed, “...just an old man.”

“Listen,” Stanley began, swiveling his gaze outward so that he was looking at you in the pool, and Ford did the same. You were laughing, looking so carefree compared to how concerned you were about being accepted just a few moments ago, and he wished he could capture this moment… because it was probably the last. “You’re definitely overthinking this thing.” Ford opened his mouth and Stanley shook his head, cutting him off. “I mean it, love’s really not that complicated.”

_ Love. _

The word made Stanford’s breath catch in his throat, and when he heard his brother laugh from next to him again, he frowned, trying to turn and hide the redness on his cheeks.

“Come on, just the word?? How are you going to react when they tell you they love you?? Crawl into a hole and hide?” Ford didn’t want to admit that he might do just that… or, at the very least, hide downstairs in his lab for the rest of the day. “Listen, do you mind their age? Without thinking about what you  _ think _ they think, does it bother you?”

Ford frowned, twirling his thumbs as he stared out at you. “Well… n-no, but--”

“So then what’s the problem??” The eldest let out an exasperated sigh, and Stanley frowned. “Seriously… You… You deserve to be happy, Ford.”

“What…?” Ford turned to look at his twin, but his expression was guarded.

“You deserve to have what you want out of life… without some nincompoop coming along and ruining it.” Ford knew now what he was referring to… The way Stanley broke his perpetual motion machine back in highschool, so long ago, but it was still a bit of a sore subject for the both of them. Even if Ford had forgiven him. “And this time the nincompoop trying to ruin it ain’t me! Try lookin’ in a mirror, Ford.”

Ford adjusted his glasses and frowned as well, turning his eyes from your figure in the water to Stanley’s face. “But is it even… right? Morally speaking?” Stan smirked, shrugging his shoulders.

“Heh, not really the person you should be askin’ about morals, Sixer. Not with my track record.” He moved to lay back on the chair with a grunt, his knees and hips popping as he lifted his legs, and Ford was reminded, once again, how unfair time has been to both of them. “Anyway, I’ve said my piece. Do with it what you will.”

And Ford understood. Really, he did! He understood that was his brother’s attempt at trying to cheer him up, give him a pep talk of sorts… but he just… couldn’t get past it. The thought of holding you back. From life, from other, more worthwhile relationships… from--

“Hey, aren’t you getting in?”

He looks up and can’t help but notice how well his shirt, oversized on you, clings to your torso, showing off the soft curve of your waist and the flatness of your chest. Your collarbones are showing from the neckline of the t-shirt, and he finds himself tracing over them with his gaze for a moment before he realized--  _ oh shit, you had asked him something. _

His eyes dart up to your face and see that it is flushed, though from his staring or from your level of activity, he isn’t sure, and you have a smile tracing along the upward curve of your lips. Clearing his throat-- and ignoring Stanley’s little huff of a laugh-- he splayed his fingers out across his stomach, his expression neutral.

“Ah, while I can swim just fine, I’d rather not.” You look slightly disappointed at this, letting out a small ‘oh’, and he’s quick to continue. “I just wouldn’t want to get in the way of you kids and your fun.”

And oh, something behind your eyes turns  _ dark _ the way he says that, and he suddenly finds himself wanting to apologize, though he’s not entirely sure what for. Your withdrawn hand hangs at your side and you put on a smile that so painfully doesn’t meet your eyes, and you move to put your hands into the pocket of a hoodie you’re not wearing. They spread across your stomach before you realize this and drop them again, shrugging your shoulders.

“Alright, your loss.”

And somehow, you saying that is worse than anything you’ve ever said, because it mixes with Stan’s pep talk in his head, turning into some convoluted message of  _ yes, it is his loss, he’s going to lose you if he doesn’t do something soon. _ But again, that dark little voice whispers,  _ Is it really a loss to lose something you never deserved in the first place? _


	5. Chapter 5

Ever since the pool incident (as he was deciding to label it in his mind), you’ve been decidedly distant from him. Your naps were farther and fewer between, and even when you do, it’s with a clinical touch that leaves him yearning for what you’d had before, before he screwed it up somehow. And oh, what he wouldn’t give to know what it was he did so he could  _ apologize _ , but every time he tried to talk about it, you just shrugged, saying it’s ‘no big deal’.

That was possibly the most frustrating part. That you weren’t willing to  _ talk to him _ anymore. If it wasn’t a discussion about anomalies or DD&D, or a group conversation with the kids, then you weren’t interested… at least, that’s how it came across. How it felt.

Not interested.

_ Maybe you’d just come to your senses, and you were no longer interested in him. _

Which, really, to be painfully honest, would suck, because his interest in you had only grown since then.

****NSFW START****

This was apparent in the way he stood in his shower down in the lab, usually saved for emergencies, to wash away chemicals and whatnot, but the upstairs one was in use, and he badly needed to wash away the feeling crawling over his skin every time he thought of you. He lathered up a washcloth with pine soap and began the tedious task of washing himself, from head to toe. All the while, his mind was busy elsewhere.

Just what was it he had done to upset you???

He couldn’t recall, didn’t remember saying anything untoward or inappropriate or rude, but he’d obviously done something. All he could remember was the way the hope died in your eyes after he’d told you he didn’t want to spoil your fun. Maybe it was from before then? When the two of you were alone, perhaps? But he hadn’t said anything… If anything, he’d complimented you!

… Yet, his gaze had dragged over your figure, taking in every single detail. Maybe… was that it?

His white t-shirt had been clinging to you, revealing the black binder you wore to hide underneath, the peek of cleavage, his shorts clinging to your thighs, looking almost skin-tight--

A startled breath escaped him as the washcloth drifted lower and, when he looked down, he felt blood rush to his face, among other places. He hadn’t even noticed, too busy thinking about  _ you _ to realize that he was working himself up needlessly. He huffed a breath of aggravation and moved to pull his hand away, but then a thought occurred to him… and, his brain really was quite overactive, at times… he couldn’t help himself, really…

Suddenly  _ you _ were in the shower with him, even if only in his mind’s eye. It was such a small, cramped space, but you were smaller, you’d fit so easily into the empty spaces he left. Your hands would be warm on his chest, fingertips trailing through the soft curls of grey hair that made a trail leading from his collarbones downward. And your hands would dutifully slide downward, as you leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, his cheek, under his ear.

Ford groaned softly, his own hand sliding downward until it rested just below his navel, six fingers curling into a tight, trembling fist before they completed their descent.

His knees nearly buckled underneath him, his back hitting the tile to keep himself upright.

You’d take him in hand, so soft compared to his own, covered in calluses from work and adventure, and he’d lean his forehead against the top of your head as you gave an experimental stroke. 

“Ngh…” Ford held his sixth finger upright, using only five fingers to pleasure himself so that it matched up with his fantasy.

You would give a breathy little chuckle at his noises, asking him if he liked it.

He nodded without thought, other hand raising to his mouth to muffle the noises that escaped him, teeth digging into his knuckle.

_ “Ford…” _ You’d moan, and even though he had no idea what that would sound like, it would be exquisite, and just what he needed to hear, your hand picking up speed in its movements, chest pressed against his broader, heaving. You’d lean up to press a kiss to his lips--

Ford brushed his thumb against his bottom lip to simulate it and felt a chill go through him despite the heat of the shower.

\--and gently nibble on his bottom lip--

He huffed and bit down hard on his lip, trying to be gentle but losing himself as his hand sped up, circling around the head of his cock before pushing down hard at the base. His movements were uncoordinated and sloppy (despite being a single man almost all of his life, he’d never found time to do this much), and that only increased the more time passed. Too engrossed in his mental fantasy to realize that the door to his living space opened.

You’d press your body against his, taking his hand at his mouth and pulling it away, interlacing your fingers. He’d notice how perfectly they fit together, your five between his six, until you dropped down, taking him into your mouth experimentally.

He failed to hold back a moan, biting his bottom lip and breathing harshly through his nose as he felt his impending climax grow ever nearer.

He didn’t know much about sex outside of the base mechanics, he would be the first to admit, but he’s sure it would feel good, having you there, beneath him, sucking him off. Stars, even thinking such a crass phrase sent a rolling shudder through him… You’d flatten your tongue out along the underside and suck, and he’d-- he’d--

A deep groan of your name spilled past his lips as he came, stroking over his length as he painted the wall opposite of him with come. His chest heaved as he struggled to maintain his breathing, heartbeat loud in his ears, loud enough that he didn’t notice the sound of the bathroom door closing, of footsteps walking away.

Once he’d taken a few moments to calm himself, still twitching as he came down from his orgasmic high, he felt an immediate disgust curl around his gut, staring hard at his semen splattered against the wall opposite him.

****NSFW END**** **  
** [NSFW TLDR; Ford masturbates in the shower to the Reader, saying their name at the end.]

_ You’re just a dirty old man. _

He raised a hand to his eyes and pressed his fingertips against them roughly, breathing in a shuddering breath.

He was… He was just a dirty old man...

The rest of his shower went rather quickly, washing his hair with rough fingers, digging into his scalp as he glared at the wall. He wasn’t upset with you, stars no! You hadn’t done anything… even if he still wasn’t understanding why you were upset with him. No, he was upset with himself… and how he let his mind get so far away from him that he did something like… like that.

He never even  _ did _ that on a regular basis, what was  _ wrong _ with him??

“You are…” he murmured, more to himself than anything, and he sighed. Ever since you came along, you’ve interrupted his work, taken up his time, and turned his brain into absolute gobblety gook (as Fiddleford would probably put it). Shaking his head, he rinsed his hair quickly and turned off the shower, shivering as the steam-warmed air quickly turned cool. He grabbed his towel and dried off, spending more time focusing on his hair than anything, and then realized that he’d forgotten to bring in clothes.

Yet… there were clothes, fresh and folded, sitting on the counter.

A dark sense of dread grew in him, and he quickly got dressed, fixing his hair in the mirror by running his fingers through it. Who was it? Was it… god, was it Dipper? He’d have to have a talk with the sixteen year old if that were the case. He didn’t even want to imagine if it were anyone else...unless…

He opened the bathroom door and felt his heart jump into his throat when he saw you laying on the couch, legs tucked under you and a book of his in your lap. Your hair was wet, as though you’d just gotten out of the shower, and again his mind flashes back to his inappropriate thoughts before he can reign himself in.

He wants to retreat, to hide away, but then your eyes flit up from your (his) book and meet his, and suddenly he can’t move. There’s a ruddy flush on your cheeks, but you’re smiling sincerely, he can tell by the way it lights up behind your eyes.

“Oh, hey Ford.”

He clears his throat to speak, but finds himself unable, still trapped in the thought of  _ you having just caught him masturbating. _ Did you see him?? Stars, how embarrassing. Did you… did he say your name? Thinking back, he couldn’t remember if he did. He hoped not. That would only make this more embarrassing. His face felt hotter than he ever remembered it feeling, and it must’ve been enough to get your attention, because suddenly you’re closing the book, and looking at him with those eyes full of concern.

“...something wrong?” When he doesn’t answer, a long silence stretches between the two of you, and he watches as your fingers begin to curl and press against the hard cover of the book, your bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I… sorry. I brought you some clothes, but…”

Ah, and there it was. You were the one, afterall. He supposed it was better this way than having one of the kids or, god forbid Stanley catching him. But still… he felt guilt crawl its way up his throat, and he glanced away. “...I am sorry,” he managed to say, voice strained, and when he heard you make a small noise of question, he pressed on. “My behavior was inexcusable and inappropriate, and, and I’m sorry. I … It won’t happen again.”

“Hey, it’s… it’s fine, Ford. Everybody does it.”

He’s suddenly mentally attacked by the mental image of you doing the same, and he closes his eyes against it, frowning deeply. “Nevertheless, it was inappropriate for me to… to--”

“Ford. You’re an adult, it’s fine. ...I’m not, er… I’m not upset by it.” Your tone makes him look over at you, and he sees that blush creeping ever higher, your whole face red. “I just wasn’t expecting you to… to say, y’know…  _ my name-- _ ”

He felt sick to his stomach

“--so it was just a bit surprising, that’s all.”

“It… it doesn’t matter. I am an adult, and an older one, at that, and I was careless, and despite what you say, I know it’s inappropriate to--”

“Inappropriate to what?” Your feet slide out from beneath you and to the floor as you stand, setting the book on the arm of the couch. He takes a step backward as you step toward him, and your eyes flash with hurt for a moment before you can hide it.

He was buggering this all up, now, wasn’t he?

“...Ford.” He stared hard at his bookcase, memorizing the titles, noticing one was out of place-- “ _ Ford. _ ” He made a mental note to reorganize the case later, but it was lost amongst the flurry and frenzy of emotion going through his mind. So focused on  _ not _ focusing on you, he didn’t notice when you’d approached until you were practically in his face, frowning and brows furrowed at him. “Ford!” He jumped, attempting to step back, but you grabbed the sides of his turtleneck and held firm so he couldn’t. “Ford, I’m only gonna say this once, and… and if you don’t listen then… then…” Your eyes were shining, frown marring your expression as you thought of what to threaten him with. “... then I’ll have to go back to the midwest.” And you sounded so devastated that he couldn’t help but  _ feel _ a little devastated, even at the thought of it.

Because really, what would change if you were to leave…? He’d go back to his work, his studies. He wouldn’t take any more naps, that’s for certain. More time to do the things he needs to do. No more laying on your chest while you play with his hair. No more kisses to the top of his head when you think he’s sleeping. No more holding your hand, watching and feeling as your five fingers fit so flawlessly between his unnatural six.

No more you.

“Ford…” Your voice catches his attention again, his eyes focusing on your expression, flitting between your eyes and your lips despite his best intentions to stay focused. Maybe he was still experiencing a bit of a high from the dopamine that had dumped into his brain. But all that came to a grinding halt when he felt your hands slide up his sides, moving instead to hold onto his shoulders. “I am not a  _ kid. _ ”

Ahh… that was it. That was what he’d said, or at least insinuated, that made you upset with him.

“I… I know you’re not--”

“Really? Because you keep… treating me like one. Like you’re too old for me or something.” He averted his gaze, and he knew then that you knew you hit the nail on the metaphorical head. He’s silent, and you sigh, your breath brushing out against his chin, and he suppresses a shiver. “Ford… please.” He couldn’t look at you. “I’m an  _ adult _ , Ford. An adult who… wh-who wants to do things with you, like… like play DD&D.” Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. “A-and, and go chase down anomalies with you, and cook meals for you, and force you to take naps, and--” He surges forward, pushing you backwards a few steps before he reigns himself in, swallowing thickly, eyes closed.

“You don’t...don’t know what you’re asking for. I’m an...an old man.”

“I don’t care--”

“You may not care right now, but later, down the road, you will… What if you want children--?”

“If we really wanted to, we could adopt.”

“--and what if you want someone to...grow old and grey with you? I can’t do that, because I’m… Christ, I’m already sixty years old. I’ve only got another thirty-something years, tops, according to statistics--”

“I don’t care about that--”

“--and you’re, what, in your twenties??” You pause then, and he realizes that maybe he’s a little closer than he thought.

“...I’m twenty-seven--”

“Oh Christ,” he groaned, and you tugged him back, back into the conversation.

“But I don’t  _ care _ about that! I’m a legal, consenting  _ adult _ , Ford, whether you want to admit to it or not. Whether you wanna keep thinking of me as… as some child--”

“I do  _ not _ want to-- Do you actually think I think of you as a child??” His hands grip your forearms, all twelve fingers digging in slightly, and you look up at him with widened eyes. “Did it  _ sound _ like I think of you as a child earlier??” You’re stunned into silence at that, and he carries on, voice still slightly raised. “It’s not that I see you as a child, it’s that I don’t-- … I don’t… want to hold you back…” His voice became quiet then, and he looked away, face forlorn, and he felt your hands twitch on his shoulders, wanting to move, but holding still. “...You have a long life ahead of you. I’d hate to see that ruined because you decided to settle with me…”

He’s not sure what reaction he was waiting for, but when it came, it certainly wasn’t what he expected…. You snorted a laugh, dry and hollow, and he felt slightly offended. You removed your hands from his shoulders and began rolling up the sleeves of your colorful hoodie, exposing your forearms, and-- ...oh.

He sucked in a breath at what he saw, because  _ oh _ , he wasn’t expecting to see scars. Not just horizontal, but vertical, tracing veins in your arms, and he stood frozen, even as you gave a small, self-conscious smile that definitely did not touch your eyes.

“Back in the midwest, I actually… was pretty miserable. I tried… but, I failed.” The bitter way with which you say you failed makes him want to sweep you up and assure you it was a victory, not a failure, but he can’t move. “Coming here, to Gravity Falls… it was my last chance at a life.” You look up at him then, and he tears his eyes away from your scars to look at you. “...And I found it. I found the life I’ve always wanted, here. …” You put your hand on his chest, over his heart, and murmur ‘here’ again, much more softly, and he feels his heart tug painfully in his chest. “I didn’t show you to get pity. Just… so you’d understand. I never thought I was going to live again, after moving...but, thanks to you, I have.” There’s a fond smile curving up along your lips now. “I love being here, at the Mystery Shack. I love all the mysteries, the anomalies, the strangeness and the oddities… I love Mabel, and Dipper, and their friends, and Stanley, and…” You met his eyes now, a flush returning to your face, and Ford felt his heart hammer away inside his ribs.

_ “How are you going to react when they tell you they love you?? Crawl into a hole and hide?” _

“...I… I’ve come to love you, too, Ford,” they said finally, after much, agonizing pause, and he felt his hands grab onto them more tightly. “If you really don’t want to be with me, then, fine. I can get over it. But… if it’s just because of our ages, then… then you’re being very foolish…”

“I’m-- …” He cut himself off, brows furrowing. “I am merely looking out for your best interests…”

“Honestly, my only interest is being here at the Shack, with you... and your family.” Ford gave you a pained look, or what he assumed probably looked like one, with the way his mouth turned down and his brows furrowed together. You laid a hand on his cheek, and as much as he tried to turn away from it, he found himself nuzzling into your palm with a heavy sigh. “...I love you, Stanford.” He grits his teeth and grabs your wrist in his gentle grip, pulling it away from his face with a huff.

“You… You aren’t… I mean to say that, you won’t… regret this?”

And then you’re kissing him, your lips pressed to his lightly, enough that he could pull away and stop it, if he wanted to. He pressed forward, nose mashing against yours as he attempted to deepen the kiss. He was awkward, uncoordinated, unfamiliar after so many years, but he at least had the sense to cup your cheeks in his hands, palms resting on the lines of your jaw. And you pressed into him, chest to chest, and he let out a low sound when you tilted your head slightly, leaning into the kiss in such a way your noses weren’t in the way.

“No, Stanford. I won’t,” you murmur against his lips, and then he pulls away, hand grasping yours as he leads you to the couch. He plopped down gracelessly onto the squeaky cushions and tugged you onto his lap, knees on either side of his hips. And the look on your face is just too perfect, because he finds himself leaning in to kiss you again.

“Say it again,” he says breathlessly, all at once eager and hesitant, and you raise a brow at him slightly.

“I won’t regret--”

“No no, not that…” You must understand immediately, because that fond smile is back, and you tuck a lock of your vibrant hair behind your ear.

“I love you, Stanford Pines.” And he feels himself grinning before you can even finish saying his name, your name leaving his lips in a whisper of reverence and elation.

“Again.” He says it like a command, but it comes across more as a plea, one that you happily oblige, if the way you whisper that you love him means anything. “Again.” He presses kisses to the corners of your mouth, and you struggle this time to say it, turning toward him to kiss him properly, but he evades each time. “Again…” He kisses your cheek, down your jaw line, and takes an immediate note of how your breathing hitches when he approaches your neck.

You break away from him and lean in to press a kiss to his pulse, just above his collarbone, and he sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering closed. That elated smile never leaves his face.

“I love you.” You rub your lips along his stubble on his jaw line, hand resting over his chest, trying to feel his heart rate through the thick material of his sweater, perhaps. And maybe it was because of his shower, but every single thing you touched felt so  _ alive _ , like his nerves were all sparking beneath his skin in only the best way. His hands, unsure of where to go, rested on your hips, thumbs brushing against your sides, and he delighted in the way you shivered under his touch.

“Fascinating…” he murmured, choking back a quiet gasp when you settled yourself more comfortably on his lap, hands trailing up past his jawline and into his hair. You’d done this before, but oh, it was so much different this time, for whatever reason. Perhaps it was intent that drove the feeling behind affection… Which means, if he were to do this…

He leaned in, experimentally, and pulled down on your hips, forcing you closer into him while at the same time leaning in to press a solid kiss to your lips. He could have died happy at the little groan you let slip past your lips, and he swallowed it up eagerly with another kiss.

It was like the most amazing experiment, but there was so much more to it than that… He was going to thoroughly enjoy figuring out what made what noises, what made what reactions, what made what--

“Heyyyy Grunkle Fooord!” Mabel’s voice came from the top of the stairs, and you both froze, faces red and slightly out of breath. “Dipper said not to come down, but I wanted to let you two know that dinner is almost here!”

You giggled quietly, trying to keep quiet while he tried to regain his composure. “Ahem, yes. Thank you, Mabel!”

“Okay! You two can return to your smooches now, if you want--”

“THANK YOU, Mabel!” Ford said, louder this time, and the teen girl giggled as she closed the secret vending machine door (not so secret anymore, though). You were laughing, almost helplessly curled against his chest as you wheezed and snorted, and, no matter how flustered, he couldn’t help but pick up on that laugh. “You snort when you laugh??” You sat up quickly then, face red and you stammered out something along the lines of how ‘no, you did not, how ridiculous’. He leaned in and pressed a bold kiss to your lips, effectively shutting you up, and he smiled. “It’s… quite endearing, my dear.”

“My dear…?” He cleared his throat and carefully, gently urged you off of his lap, getting to his feet.

“Well, we should probably go up, try to save some face…” You nodded, a bit of an amused smile playing at your lips that made him want to kiss you again. But instead, he just grasped your hand in his, threading your fingers together with a smile and headed upstairs, the smell of sesame chicken and egg rolls filling the air.


	6. Chapter 6

“Say, I’ve been thinking…” A soft hum from you followed up Ford’s beginnings of a statement as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he felt his cheeks warm slightly.

“You do tend to do that,” you teased lightly, and he chuckled.

“Yes, well… remember when we played that game?” Your arms slide away, and he mourns the loss only for a moment before he’s being turned around in his desk chair so you can sit on his lap.

“You mean Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons? ...Why, you eager to get back to my campaign?”

“Well, honestly, yes, I would love to get to the conclusion of such a thrilling and involving game. The way you bring in real world elements like hunger and illness really make it immersive.” You flush at the high praise, and he doesn’t stop his hand from reaching up to cup your cheek, which you immediately press a kiss to. “But no, that wasn’t the game I was referring to.” He leaned back a bit in his chair, and you naturally let yourself fall against his chest, pressing your forehead against his temple. “I meant the question game. Do you recall?”

“Of course I do. You asked really invasive questions, while I asked about your--”

“Favorite food, yes.” He cleared his throat slightly, glancing away, and he felt you turn and press a kiss to the side of his head.

“Go on.”

“Well, the kids have been making complaints lately--”

“Finally getting sick of the take-out, I take it?”

“Yes, to put it simply. And I was wondering… well, if you wouldn’t mind, that is, if you’d cook for us. The family.” He had a feeling it was the way he included you in ‘the family’, but a brightness reaches your eyes that matches the brilliant smile on your face.

“I’d love to cook for you guys. ...Though, I’m going to have to go to the store. I’m guessing you don’t keep a lot of ingredients to cook with in the house, since you all eat so much take-out.” You hopped off of his lap, and his hand reached out to snag your wrist gently, tugging you back. You chuckled, “What’s gotten into you today, Ford? You’re awfully… cuddly.” He could feel his ears and face turning red, but damn it all, he couldn’t very well help himself! Not when you were without your hoodie for once, wearing a tank top and shorts to combat the summer heat, your vibrant colored hair brushed over one side, your eyes bright. Something about it, despite it being so ‘normal’, made it so extraordinary to him… Your exposed skin made him want to touch you (in an innocent way, of course!) and kiss you, and maybe curl up on the couch for a quick nap, because he’d been up for over twenty-four hours. He’d run on less before, though, so he’d be fine… Right now, his mission was to get you to cook for them, and that appeared to be a success.

“I’ll ask Stanley if we can borrow the car,” he provided, and you hummed thoughtfully for a moment.

“...Do you even know how to drive anymore?” He made a strange sound, feeling slightly offended by that question, and even though you were laughing at him, he couldn’t bring himself to mind it much. “Hey, it’s a valid question, okay? You’ve spent a long time down here…” You, of course, were also referring to his time in the multidimensional portal, and he knew that. Clearing his throat with an attempt to lighten the mood, he smiled at you, gently urging you to get to your feet.

“I know how to drive, my dear, and I would be honored to take you to the store so you can cook me-  _ us _ dinner.”

“Uh huh. You just want the food, I see how it is.” You tried hard to sound like you were offended, but that didn’t really work when you were biting your lip to try and keep the wide grin from your face. He chuckled and, once you were off of his lap, he stood with you, leaning down to press a small kiss to your temple. “Okay, okay, you win. You’re gonna give me diabeetus with how sweet you’re being!”

“It’s pronounced ‘diabetes’, but I see your point,” he said plainly, and you blinked at him for a long moment, waiting… then he understood what you’d done and snorted. “Oh. I see. Fiddleford might have gotten that better than I did. Or Stanley.”

“Eh, so you’re not the most well versed when it comes to these things… You’re plenty well versed in others. For example…” You grabbed his hand and brought the hand up close to your face, spreading out his fingers and pressing a kiss to one, quietly naming one of his PhD’s. You did this with each finger until, by the time you were on the ninth, he was red in the face and his breathing was slightly hitched. Snatching his hand away, surprising you, he pressed himself in close to you, hands claiming your hips in their strong, large grip.

“Yes, well, I am quite aware of what my PhD’s are,” he said, his voice tighter than it had been a moment ago, and you chuckled at him, eyes looking over his face warmly.

“I just thought I’d remind you.” You said that so innocently that, if he hadn’t known any better, that’s all you were doing...but he knew better. You’d done the same sort of thing the last time the two of you had, ahem… ‘made out’, however classless that term was, and it had nearly driven him mad.

“Perhaps you can remind me later,” he said, voice rumbling from his chest, and your eyes widened, face flushing that pretty color, and oh my god, there were implications to what he just said that he hadn’t quite meant. But before he could open his mouth to rectify it, you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, squeezing his hand in both of yours.

“I’ll hold you to that…” you murmured, and Ford suddenly found it very hard to breathe. “Anyway, I’ll go ask Stanley if we can borrow the car… Is it okay if Mabel and Dipper come along?”

“Yep. Sure thing.” He wasn’t meaning to sound short with you, but gosh darn it, you’d gotten him worked up, and you hadn’t even done that much. He quickly sat back at his desk, scooting in to hide the evidence while you watched with a small smirk on your lips. “You go ahead, I need to ah, finish up my notes on the Multibear.” He picked up his pen and grabbed the piece of paper he’d left off on, writing down more of his thoughts...which were currently rather frazzled and scattered, were he to be honest. Especially when you hummed and leaned down to press another, lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Okay. I’ll be waiting upstairs.” And he tried oh so hard not to stare at you as you walked away, up the stairs, but temptation was a cruel mistress.

“Okay! I’ll be here! Writing.” Your amused laughter was cut off by the whoosh of the electronic secret door, leaving him alone with his thoughts on… the Multibear. Yes. Maybe that’s just what he needed to get his mind off of you long enough to calm down and be able to face society.

-

“Wow, I can’t believe we’re gonna get a home-cooked meal for the first time in...what, three summers?” Dipper’s statement turned more into a question as the sixteen year old buckled himself into the back seat of the Stan-Mobile (a dumb name, if Ford had ever heard one), and the sincerity with which it was said made Ford feel slightly… bad? Maybe they should’ve made more of an attempt to cook at the Shack, instead of always ordering out.

“Yeah! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like the other food just fine. It’s great!” Mabel fixed Ford with a smile through the rearview mirror, and he knew that she was trying to make him feel better.

“Yes, well. Perhaps we can eat at home more often, now that--”

“Now that you’re gonna cook for us! Right??” Mabel nudged at your elbow with her toe, and Ford politely pushed her foot back into the back seat with a frown. You just laughed and nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t mind. I’ve been cooking since I was, what, five?? I have a lot of experience. I’d be happy to teach you guys, if you want.”

“No. Way. Five? As in, five years old??” The teen girl squealed, and Ford gently reprimanded her to  _ not _ squeal in a confined space...like the car. “Ohmigosh, that’s amazing! All I did when I was five was shove gummy worms up my nose!”

“Mabel, you did that, like, three summers ago. I have it on camera. Remember? The mailbox in the woods--”

“Blahblahblah!! Anyway! What are we gonna make??” she asked, so earnestly that you obviously couldn’t hold out on her. You turned around in your front seat just enough to see the twins.   
  


“Well, to be honest, I don’t really know. What do you guys usually get when you go to the diner?”

They lapsed into a bit of thoughtful silence, before they both blurted out answers.

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes.”

You laughed, such a beautiful sound that Ford had to consciously keep his attention on the road. “Okay, well, I  _ could _ make pancakes… But I was thinking something more along the lines of maybe…” Quiet filled the car for a moment, save for Mabel’s excited noises from the back seat as she waited, and you snapped your fingers. “I know! I could make homemade pasta and alfredo! I used to make it all the time, back when I-- ...er, back before I came here.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a flitting movement before looking back at the road, and in that short amount of time you gave him an easy smile. Letting him know you were alright.

“That sounds pretty good, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever had it--”

“It’s something you get at those fancy italian restaurants!” Mabel gasped, awed, and you shook your head quickly.

“Nah, it’s simple stuff. Takes about… what, seven ingredients, not including spices?”

Ford pulled into one of the closer parking spaces at the grocery store and turned the car off, and everyone quickly unbuckled their seatbelts to get out. Mabel immediately latched onto your arm with one hand, her other tugging Dipper by his vest. “Okay, ready when you are!” You chuckled and looked over to Ford, who was circling around the car towards you.

“Yes, quite ready. Now, where is your list?” You look up at him in confusion, then shake your head.

“I don’t have a list.” He frowned, but then you tapped your temple, and he understood. “It’s all up here. My memory may be faulty sometimes, but when it comes to ingredients to things I like, I have it pretty well memorized.”

“Well--”

“What are we waiting for??” Mabel asked, jumping up and down before heading into the store, dragging you and Dipper in tow. Stanford just kind of hung back and chuckled at her overeagerness, her energy, and how well you fit into his family.

_ Into their family _ …

The thought came unbidden, and he suddenly found himself wondering if perhaps you’d like to be a part of his family on a more… permanent basis.

“Grunkle Foooord!”

Mabel’s call broke his focus, and he realized he’d been staring at the storefront without moving for a few moments. He quickly made his way inside, only to find that you, along with the teens, had vanished. He wandered the aisles searching for you, not wanting to have to call your name out loud and garner attention… but he did eventually find you in the dry pasta section, the two teens picking through different boxes while you chuckled to yourself, watching them with a glint of amusement in your eyes.

“Ooh! Spirals!”

“Alfredo is supposed to go with fettuccini, though--”

“Oh look! These ones look like sea shells!”

“Keep it down, you two. Pretty sure everyone in the block can hear you two arguing over pasta.” You look up and over to him when he speaks, the amusement growing as a smile plays at your lips.

“It’s a very important decision, though. The type of pasta can influence the dish in a completely different way.”

“How?” he frowned, confused. “It’s all the same ingredients, it can’t affect it that much.”

“Ahhh but that’s where you’re wrong, Stanford.”

Wrong? He didn’t like being told he was wrong. But, somehow, coming from you, it felt less like an insult and more like a… challenge? He smirked.

“Alright, then let’s get two boxes. Two different types of pasta. If I’m right, and there is no discernible difference, then you do the dishes for the next week. The twins’ interest piqued at that, usually having to be the one to do any dishes, and the glanced between the two of you.

“Alright, and if I win, then…” You paused, thinking, and an absolutely devious smile spread wide across your lips. “Then you have to try sleeping at night for once. One eight-hour night.” You held your hand out, smiling. “Do we have a deal?”

Blue flames. A dark hand, a single, unblinking eye, a yellow pyramid--

He shook his head and took a step back, trying to shake the feeling of unease that just overcame him, and he stared down at your hand. You faltered then, withdrawing your hand and scratching at the buzzed side of your head.

“Hehe, alright, I’ll just have good faith that you’ll stay true to your word.” You turned to the twins and motioned to the boxes still in their hands. “Mabel, pick one, and you two can put those in the basket.” Ford only then noticed that there was a green shopping basket at your feet. The twins jumped to action, Dipper and Mabel carefully putting a box each into the basket alongside the other ingredients. “Okay! Next, we need to get chicken. I get the feeling Stan won’t have a meal without some kind of protein.” The three of you laugh and you turn back to look at Ford, who still has this slightly haunted look in his eyes. “... Hey, Ford?” You put your hand on his shoulder and he flinches away slightly, looking up at you with a frown.

“Wha--... oh, yes. Stanley does prefer protein to anything else, it would seem.” You’re looking at him with that concerned look, but you just gave him a smile (one that didn’t quite reach your eyes) and turned to pick up the basket. The twins were already walking away, though they were looking over their shoulders at the two of you and murmuring to themselves.

  
  


By the time all the ingredients were gathered, it was very nearly time to start cooking. You said something about having to apologize to Stan, that he’d have to have a snack to tide him over until it was ready. Ford, however, was struggling to stay in the present. He hadn’t had a flashback like that in… well, a while. At least, not one that was that vivid. The word ‘deal’ just sort of set him off… he hoped he’d be able to get over it soon, because catching your concerned glances from the passenger seat was making him feel bad for worrying you.

_ It’s not something they need to concern themselves with. _

You arrived home safely, and, after everyone piled out of the car, Stanley emerged to give his ‘baby’ a once-over while you headed inside with the twins to get cooking.

“Okay, so first, we’ve gotta grill the chicken… Think you can do that, Dipper? And Mabel, you can make the noodles.”

“Okay.”

“Right!”

Ford followed at a more languid pace, his mind elsewhere, heading immediately to the secret door to go down to his lab.

“Oh, hey, Ford!” He turned and glanced over his shoulder, seeing you with an apron around your waist. Your arms were still exposed thanks to the tank top, and he found his eyes wandering along the lines of your forearms as you spoke. “Do you have something you need to do?”

...He should really get back to work. But the smells coming from the kitchen were already so good, he felt his stomach rumble embarrassingly loud. “...I suppose I could stay up here for a while. Though I do have some work I need to get done.” The brightness of your smile very nearly banished his worries, and you crossed the space to grab his hand--

Hands. Grabbing hands. Shaking hands. Deals. Demons. Cipher--

You looped your fingers loosely around his wrist, instead, and gave a gentle tug toward the kitchen, sparing him only a small concerned glance before turning back around. The kitchen was full of smells, with Dipper and Mabel both hard at work around the stove. Garlic, herbs, and pepper were among those he could easily identify, but he was certain there was more. He took a seat at the table and you carefully let go of his wrist, patting him on the shoulder before heading to the stove yourself.

“Alright, so, to make the sauce, you’ve just gotta melt a stick of butter--”

“On it!” Mabel ran to the fridge and pulled out a butter stick, unwrapping it and dropping it into the pan. You smiled at her gratefully, giving her a little side-hug.

“Thanks! Next, after that melts, we need to add all but half a cup of this heavy whipping cream, and all of the parmesan-- one cup worth, give or take.”

And he wasn’t sure what it was, but something about being in the kitchen with you and the kids, in such a domestic setting… really calmed his mind down. He found himself leaning back against the back of the chair, eyes flitting between your face and your body language, all so calm and comfortable as you cooked. This was your element, apparently. It was obvious from the way you spoke to the teen twins, the way you smiled and laughed.

Before long, the smell of melted cheese and boiled pasta mingled, and you were pouring equal amounts of alfredo over the noodles-- one pan of fettuccini, one pan of shells. Stan was quick to come into the kitchen, enticed by the aromas, and he whistled.

“Gotta hand it to ya, kid, this looks amazing!” Ford glanced up at you as you were called ‘kid’, fully expecting you to insist otherwise...but you just smiled at the praise and thanked him. Apparently it was just with Ford himself that there was an issue… interesting.

“Okay!” You clapped your hands together and then spread them out wide at your sides, almost as though you were revealing the table full of food that you (and the younger twins) had made.

“Thank you,” Ford passed plates around until everyone had one, and began piling food onto his plate.

“Ah-ah! Make sure you get each kind. Remember our bet?” Your smile was infectious, and mischievous, and he made direct eye contact with you as he got a scoop of both types of pasta onto his plate. Stan, on the other hand, immediately stabbed two chicken breasts and threw them on his plate, foregoing the steamed broccoli completely, and Ford frowned.

“Stanley, are you seriously not going to eat your vegetables?” Stan looked up at him, frowning around a mouthful of chicken, and rolled his eyes.

“What are you, my mom? The meat’s the best part!”

You quietly waited until the twins had gotten their plates and carefully made one for yourself, with a little bit of everything. Ford huffed an exasperated sigh at his brother and decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. He twirled some of the fettuccini around his fork and took his first bite…

...and he just realized what his favorite food was.

It must’ve shown on his face, because you swallowed your own bite, looking at his face searchingly. “So? ...Is it any good?”

“Good? No.” He took another bite, chewing and swallowing before shooting you a grin. “It’s fantastic! I can’t believe something so good could be so simple… and you didn’t even use a recipe. Outstanding!” You glowed at his praise, cheeks pink and smile genuine.

“Heh, thanks… I know a lot of italian inspired dishes, so, maybe next time, I can try making something even better.”

“Kid, if you get any better than this, we’re gonna have a problem. I’m gonna be old AND fat.”

The teens laughed at their Grunkle Stan’s words, turning and giving praise of their own, and Ford just watched you, how you beamed and took in every bit of praise like a sponge takes in water. It was endearing, and sweet, and… honestly, pretty cute, too, how you smiled at all of them.

“Thank you, really…. Gosh, I can’t remember the last time I got to cook for someone like this. It’s been an honor.”

Ford looks down at his plate and, out of curiosity, stabs one of the shells and pops it into his mouth. ...And he stops, mid-chew, glancing over at you, with that knowing smile on your lips.

“It’s… the texture is so different… yet they’re the same ingredients. How??” You just chuckled.   
  


“Looks like someone’s catching some Z’s tonight.”

-

“Are you certain this is a good idea..?”

Stanford Pines found himself standing in the doorway, dressed in his most comfortable clothes (which so happened to be a black wife-beater and a pair of plaid pajama pants) and watching you as you brushed your teeth in the bathroom.

“Mhm! ’m schurre!”

He rolled his eyes, though a smile played at his lips, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, my dear.” You rolled your eyes right back and leaned forward to spit into the sink, rinsing out your mouth before turning off the faucet. You wiped your mouth on your forearm and turned to face him, arms crossed over your unbound chest chest. (He tried not to think about how he could see the swell of your breasts through your tank, how odd it was to finally see you so vulnerable, but he failed.)

“Why, you backing out of our arrangement?” you asked, a single brow raised, and he shook his head quickly.

“No no, of course not! It’s just...er…” His face flushed and his voice lowered to a hushed tone, glancing down the hall both ways to make sure no one was around. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate…”

You grasped his wrist and tugged him down the hall and into what was now your room, letting go once the door was opened and moving to sit on the edge of the bed. You pat beside you gently, and he felt his face flush, glancing away. When he heard another, more insistant patting, he sighed, closing the door behind him with a soft click and stepping closer. You nodded, pleased by this, and rolled over so that you were laying on your back on the side closest to the door. He silently appreciated this, though he had no idea if you did it intentionally, and walked around the end of the bed to sit on the edge on the opposite side.

“...Are you truly sure that you don’t mind me sleeping with you?” When you turned to him with a brow raised, he amended rather quickly, “Th-that is to say, that you don’t mind me sharing a bed with you...to, sleep in?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Ford.” You shuffled forward a bit and tugged on his elbow until he laid down on his back, pulling back the covers and sliding beneath them. You joined him, and at the first bare graze of your foot against his, he twitched away, feeling heat flood his face. “What, no footsie?” you asked, amused, and he rolled over onto his side toward you, frowning in embarrassment.

“In all my years and through all I’ve discovered and experienced, I have truly never felt anything as cold as your feet.”

You laugh and try to touch his feet again, but he scoots away, very nearly falling off the bed and saying your name in a warning tone.

“Alright, alright, I’ll just freeze over here on my side of the bed,” you complain, though you were obviously joking around. He felt himself smile until you leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose, murmuring a quiet ‘goodnight’ to him. He reached up to remove his glasses and set them on the bedside table, clicking off the lamp that was lighting the room.

“Goodnight.”

Sleep was difficult for him to grasp, his brain too energized, too distracted, too  _ busy. _ But, after you curled up to his side, he slowly found himself being taken into the dark embrace of sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

When he awoke, it was with a start, unsure of where he was or what he was doing. Your warmth helped ground him, though, and he looked down at your sleeping figure with a smile, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes opened wide almost immediately and he jumped slightly, your sclera yellowish and your pupils mere slits--

“So. This is how you’ve been occupying your time, huh, Fordsy?” That voice… but, no, it couldn’t be! “Why can’t it? This realm is so dull, I can’t wait to see what sort of fun we can bring to it! Especially now that I’m in your little ‘friend’s’ mind!” He backed away from you on the bed, eyes wide and fearful.

“No, we… we erased you! We erased you from Stanley’s mind--”

“Hahaha! You mean  **you** erased me, along with your brother’s mind!” His breathing came in short gasps as he watched your body contort slightly, rising slowly off the bed before lunging at him. He tried to reach for his laser gun, which he’d snuck into the drawer of the bedside table, but then your hands were wrapping around his throat, and he couldn’t breathe.

“Whatcha gonna do, Fordsy?? Erase your lover’s mind?? That’s cold, even for me!” He, and you, laughed, a discordant, eerie sound, and he struggled harder, flailing and trying to grasp the butt of the gun. “C’mon, Sixer, why not just give up, let me in your mind? Or just erase me again! I’ll keep coming back.” The glow from your eyes was blinding, and your smile far too sharp. “I’ll come back again… and again… and again, until I’m able to take control of that big brain of yours and learn how to take over this dimension!” Grasping the gun in hand, he quickly raised it and pistol-whipped Bill in the head, who laughed maniacally as he fell over, slumped on the mattress. “Oh, Fordsy, Fordsy, you’re too much fun! Guess it’s time for you to  **wake up** .”

He rolled Bill over, pressing the muzzle of the gun under his chin, finger on the trigger.

“You’re not going to win, you hear me?! You’re going to die and stay dead this time!”

Your fearful eyes were what he came back to, startlingly clear in the minimal moonlight that streamed in through the windows. His chest heaved with breath as he held the gun where it was, slowly calming down, rationale returning, and...oh. Oh god…

“F-...Ford…?”

He pulled the gun away quickly, dropping it carelessly onto the blanket as his hands hovered over you, unsure of what to do, where to touch, to make this any better.

“Oh god, I… a-are you alright? I was-- I-I didn’t mean--” He felt sick, pooling in the center of his stomach and rising upward, but he swallowed it down. It was then he noticed the blood, and he could feel his face pale. He moves to wipe the blood away, but you flinch, backing away from him, and he feels something in his chest squeeze painfully. You were… afraid of him. Of course you were, he just held a fucking gun under your chin with the threat and intent to pull the trigger.

He watched as you sat up, one hand to the wound on your head that really, really ought to get looked at. Tears were streaming down your face, and though you were trying to keep your expression neutral, even now, he could read the fear coming from you.

He fucked up.

“I… You need to have that looked at… here, please, let me--” He tried again, reaching for you, and you shook, closing your eyes and anticipating the hit that wouldn’t come. He gently pulled your wrist so your hand was no longer covering the wound. He turned and flicked on the bedside lamp, and you both winced at the brightness of it. There was so much blood, so much-- Head wounds bleed a lot, he told himself, reminded himself, because otherwise he felt like he would die of guilt. “I-I don’t know what happened--”

“Happened? You held a goddamn g-gun at me, Stanford!” Your voice was more shrill, and he desperately wanted you to be quieter, didn’t want everyone else to wake up. Didn’t want his brother to know that he was having nightmares again. He’d been doing so well…

“Shh, please, I-I can explain, just… just keep calm--” You jerked your wrist out of his grip and curled in on yourself, breathing fast, eyes wide. “It… I had.. A nightmare, from… from weirdmageddon. Bill, he… He took over your mind, a-and you both were choking me…” God, this was probably the closest he’d felt to tears since he had to erase Stanley’s mind… They were pooling, bitter and stinging, in the corners of his brown eyes. Your breathing didn’t slow, but you were listening, he could tell by the way your eyes narrowed a fraction, the way your shoulders lowered slightly.

“I-I didn’t know you had n-nightmares…”

He nodded, swallowing thickly, feeling so so ashamed. “I… I haven’t in a while. Not since we started taking naps… but, today, at the store, y-you mentioned making a  _ deal _ and I just--” Your brows furrowed, and he made a small, pained sound as he shook his head. “I-It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have… I… This was a mistake… I’m sorry.” He met your gaze with his own, reaching a hand out toward you, watching as you stared, eyes flickering between his face and his hand. “I truly never meant to hurt you… I’m so sorry.”

“...Ford…” You raised your hand, and he held his breath, waiting to see what choice you would make. He wasn’t prepared for the emotional relief he felt when he felt your fingers wrap around his, curling almost protectively. “You didn’t mean it…”

“I  _ hurt you _ .”

“You didn’t mean it… I-I thought something was wrong, but… if it was a nightmare, then, it wasn’t me…” His heart and stomach lurched.

“Stars, no! Of course it wasn’t you! I would-- I could never--” He raised his other hand to cover his mouth, breathing quickly through his nose. He felt like he was going to be ill, tears catching in his lashes and slipping down his cheekbones.

You lunged at him, and he bit back the fear and the reactive part of his brain, letting you throw your full weight at him. Knocking him over onto the mattress, your arms wrapped around his torso, you gently tucked your head under his chin. He froze for a long moment, waiting until the nausea passed before moving further down the bed, until he was laying on your chest. He pressed his face into your chest, forehead against your collarbones, and shuddered in a breath. You slowly began to thread your fingers through his hair soothingly, letting out a small hum when he spoke your name.

“I don’t know how I could ever convince you of how truly and deeply sorry I am…” he muttered, arms tightening around your waist. Another soft hum, and the petting of his hair stopped, and he silently wished that it would continue.

“Well… you can tell me what the nightmare was about…” He tensed, and an apology was immediately on your lips, fingers moving soothingly through his hair again, tracing circles along his scalp. “I’m sorry, I just… I want to know what has you so scared…”

“... Bill Cipher is-- ..was… a demon from the second dimension. You remember how I said Stanley was the one who saved us all?” You nod, and he continues, drawing in a shaky breath. “Well… It was because… he tricked Bill into thinking he was me… and letting him into his mind. Then I… I erased him,” he rasped, burying his face further into your chest. “I erased Bill, along with Stanley’s mind. And, in the nightmare, I… I was faced with Bill having taken control of  _ you _ , and I… Christ, I just immediately went to pull the tr-trigger!”

“It would’ve saved the world? Then it’s worth pulling the trigger.” He made a noise of protest, sniffling, and you shook your head, chin brushing against the top of his head. “No, Stanford… If you ever have that choice, I fully expect you to do that.” Your hands stilled in his hair again, and he just sighed heavily, grip around your waist tightening as he nuzzled into your chest.

You stayed that way for a long while, until Ford started to feel like he might tucker out. The tears eventually stopped, but he didn’t seem content to let go just yet… and you didn’t really seem to mind it either way.

“Who would’ve thought that you had it all…” you murmured, and he made a questioning sound in the back of his throat. “Brains, personality, a rockin’ bod, and sensitive…” He snorted, and you leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m serious. You’re a regular babe magnet.”

“Stop.”

“I mean it. I am just amazed by how lucky I am to have you in my life every day. ...I love you.” You pressed kisses to his eyes and he shuddered against you, curling around you more tightly.

“I’m the one who should be saying that… Can’t believe you still think all of that after what I’ve just done--”

“I’m putting it behind me… you should, too. Okay?” And honestly, he knew that he wouldn’t, because he wasn’t a man who let go of things easily… but he nodded his head against your chest and closed his eyes, listening to the rhythmic sound of your heart beating as he slowly fell back into sleep.

“Okay…”

-

“--so you just… fell out of bed? And hit your head on the bedside table??” Mabel sounded equal measures skeptical and incredulous, and Ford watched as you nodded. He was watching you rather closely, as was Stan. And Dipper. But when you just smiled at Mabel and waved off her concerns, sitting on the stool behind the counter in the Mystery Shack’s gift shop, everyone kind of decided it’d be best to back off for a bit.

Ford, as much as he wanted to stick close by, felt a deep shame every time he looked at your face (and, more specifically, the deep welt on your forehead, a cut along your hairline), so he secluded himself to the basement without another word to anyone.

The sounds of Mr. Mystery making his sales pitch from above was muffled as the door closed, and he held his breath, waiting to see who it was that had followed him down the stairs. A knock came from the doorway, and there stood Dipper, all awkward and lanky like a sixteen year old was prone to be, but the look on his face was what made him all the more awkward.

He looked like he had something to say, but was afraid of the consequences.

Ford sighed and swiveled around behind his desk, giving dipper a half-hearted grin. “Greetings, Dipper. What can I do for you?” The teen looked torn, glancing back up the stairs for a moment before steeling his resolve and stepping into the room, door closing behind him.

“Great Uncle Ford, I was… wondering what really happened. To them.” Ford must have shown some sort of displeasure on his face, because Dipper quickly amended himself, “That is, if you’re willing to talk about it! I know when I have nightmares, I can always come to you, so…” He sighed. “I just figured, you know… you could come to me, too.”

Ford leveled the boy with a stern look for a moment… before letting out a tired sigh, raising a hand to rub at his eyes under his glasses.

“You’re right, Dipper.. I just-- I thought I was past this--”

“None of us are, Grunkle Ford. Heck, even Mabel still has nightmares sometimes…” Dipper’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked away, rubbing at his arm with his hand, and Ford bit back a surprised question of ‘really?’ Because out of all of them, the one person he least suspected to have nightmares would be Mabel. Dipper crossed the room to stand on the other side of the desk, frowning. “So… what happened…?”

“... We were going to sleep, and I had a nightmare. Where Bill took control of… of  _ their _ mind, instead of the usual, where he takes control of you kids or Stanley…” Dipper’s eyes widened a fraction but he nodded, urging his great uncle to continue. “They-- Bill was pinning me down, choking me, and so I reached for my pistol… I hit them. In the head, with the butt end of the pistol, then put it under their chin to… to…” He trailed off, hands quaking slightly as he remembered with such vivid clarity the way your eyes had looked at him when he finally came to.

“...That wasn’t your fault, Grunkle Ford.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, “I was the one with my finger on the trigger, Dipper.”

“It still wasn’t your fault,” the boy insisted, putting his hands on the desk top, over top of the countless scattered papers. “What happened after that? They obviously haven’t run away or left.” Ford’s eyes widened slightly, and Dipper continued. “They’ve obviously forgiven you, so… so you just need to work on forgiving yourself. And if you can’t, then make it up to them.”

Ford blinked in surprise. Sure, Dipper was intelligent, and wise for his age in many ways, but this was out of the ordinary, even for him. The teen quickly pulled his hands off the desk, righting the papers he’d shuffled accidentally before heading back for the door.

“Well, anyway, I should probably get back upstairs, to help.” Ford nodded, and Dipper offered him a small, encouraging smile before turning and heading back up the stairs.

This left Stanford alone with his thoughts for a while, and he sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. “What am I going to do…” As much as he wanted to hide away, to keep from hurting you again, he knew that wasn’t a viable option. Not if he wanted your relationship to continue… which he did. Very much so. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands.

Then, the sound of quick footsteps from above drew his attention and he frowned, standing from his desk chair and walking over to the door. He opened it just in time to catch Stan standing at the top of the stairs, shouting his name. A feeling of dread boiled in the pit of his stomach as he quickened his pace.

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

“Dunno what happened, but they started talkin’ nonsense, and somethin’ about their head hurtin’ real bad. Then--” He moved his hands from his mouth and away from his face, grimacing. “They uh… got sick.” That statement was punctuated by the sound of you vomiting into the waste bin, and Ford pushed past Stanley to enter the main area of the Mystery Shack. There you were, customers all gone, on your knees beside the counter. Mabel was holding onto your shoulders, rubbing your back with gentle up and down motions while Dipper was flipping through a book anxiously, eyes darting between you and the pages.

There was only one thought that came to his mind.

Stepping across, he knelt in front of you, wincing as yet another wave of sick came spilling past your lips and into the trash can. “Turn off the lights, quickly,” Ford said quietly, pointing to Dipper, who immediately jumped to action and did just that. Mabel moved aside as Ford took up your left side, six-fingered hand rubbing up and down your back as you choked and gagged. Tears were pouring, a constant stream from your eyes as you furrowed your brow. When you could breathe again, the first thing on your lips was an apology, and he shushed you. “Don’t be, this is all my fault…” He shook his head and, once he felt certain enough the vomiting was over with, helped you to your feet. “Can you stand on your own..?”

You try, to your credit, but with your labored breathing and your eyes closed, you had a hard time maintaining balance. He felt something in his gut clench. His hands fly out to grab your shoulders just as you’re about to lose balance, and you fall forward into his chest.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice is firm, almost stern, and when you don’t answer right away, he calls your name, loudly enough for you to hear. You shudder against him, eyes closing even more tightly.

“Head hurts… so much. I can’t--” Your eyes open, cloudy and pained, just long enough to find the wastebasket again so you can heave dryly over it.

“Damn it.” Ford’s fingers curled into tight fists, guilt eating away at his insides. “You have a concussion. But you went to sleep immediately after you got it… Who knows what kind of damage could have been done.” You could have not woken up at all. That thought is enough to make him kneel down, scooping you up, regardless of the fact Stan and everyone was watching, and carrying you quickly back to your room. “Bring the waste basket, if you’d please,” he called behind him, and Mabel shouted a quick ‘okay’ before getting to work. She didn’t follow immediately, his guess would be to clean it out then bring it, but his focus was more on you at the moment.

“Sixer, don’t you think you oughta take ‘em to a doctor?”

“I am a Doctor, Stanley,” he replied cooly, and his brother rolled his eyes. “Look, I caused this mess, I’m going to fix it.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pen light and held one of your eyelids open, shining the light into it. You whined and tried to close your eye, but he held it open for a few seconds more before switching to the other eye. He breathed a sigh of relief, standing upright. “Good, pupils are both the same size… That means their concussion isn’t as bad as I feared.” He turned away, putting the pen light back into his breast pocket, and he caught sight of Stanley, still standing leaning against the doorway. “...What?”

“What? You knock out one of my employees and you’re asking me what?”

“I didn’t knock them out, they were conscious and coherent last ni--”

“Look, I don’t care! Can we finally agree that maybe taking a gun to bed with you is a bad idea?” he asked, exasperated, and at Ford’s hesitant expression, he sighed. “Look, I get being paranoid. Once I remembered what all went down, I was pretty fuckin’ paranoid, too.”

“Language..” Ford muttered weakly, hands moving to clasp behind his back.

“Don’t you ‘language’ me, Ford! Just because you act like you’ve got your shit all together doesn’t mean you do, and look what happened!”

“I’m aware of what happened, Stanley. I’m  _ trying  _ to fix it!”

“Hey!” Mabel’s voice suddenly coming from behind Stan startled both men, and they stepped aside to see a sternly glaring teen. She walked in silently to put the waste bin by the bed, with a new trash bag put in it and air freshener sprayed into it, and reached up to gently pat your hand. When she turned back around, she had her hands on her hips, and she was looking very pointedly up at the two of them. “If you’re gonna argue, then get out. Their head hurts, and that won’t help them. Her expression softened when she saw Stan and Ford look a little more calm, remorse touching their expressions. “Grunkle Ford, you should stay with them today, make sure they’re okay. And Grunkle Stan, I’ll take over the register.”

“But kid, weren’t you gonna go do girly shi- ...stuff, with your friends today?” Mabel nodded.

“Yeah, but, taking care of family is more important, right?”

The two men met eyes at that, only for a second before Ford looked away, his grey hair falling in front of his eyes. “Right.”

Stan nodded, huffing out a breath before turning on his heel and walking out of the room, Mabel following close behind. Just as the door was about to close, she poked her head back in, smiling ear to ear. “And make sure to give plenty of kisses. Kisses make everything better!”

“Ahem, yes, well, uh--”

The teen giggled and closed the door, padding off down the hall after her Grunkle. Ford sat in the silence of the room, broken only by your breathing. He fidgeted with his fingers for a moment before, hesitantly, he sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

“...D-do you still feel ill?” You huffed a breath and cracked one eye to look at him.

“I-I… kind of…” you muttered weakly, swallowing past another wave of nausea, if he had to bet, and he reached down for the waste bin. “I’m fine.” He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it, having since closed your eye again. The room was dark, with the blinds closed and the lamp off, he could hardly see. His eyes were slow to adjust to the lighting. “Hey, Ford…?” Your voice sounded so hesitant, and, after a moment, his eyes adjusted just enough to see that your face was red.

“Do you have a fever? Let me get a thermometer!” He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, and you bat it away weakly, frowning.

“No, I… I need your help.” You averted your gaze, trying to push yourself up on the bed, but another wave of nausea hit you from the struggle, so you laid back down. Ford frowned and looked you over, waiting to hear what it was you needed help with, but you remained silent.

“Help with what, exactly?” Your face reddened further, and you sighed.

“I… need help taking my binder off. I can’t wear it in bed…”

Oh….  _ Oh. _

Ford felt his own face fill with heat as he looked down at your chest, hidden away behind layers of hoodie and clothing. That explained why you weren’t wearing it the night before... Taking a deep breath, he gently helped guide you until you were sitting up, holding your hand with a squeeze as you waded through the nausea, waiting for it to pass. When you nodded at him that you were okay, he breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Good. Okay, then… I-I guess I should…” he trailed off, staring down at your hoodie with an embarrassed frown. Hesitantly, he reached forward and grasped the hem of your hoodie, pulling it up to expose your soft stomach. He drew in a hitched breath-- why weren’t you wearing a shirt underneath this?? The sound of you swallowing thickly broke his flustered attention, however difficult that might have been, and he pulled it up and over your head, being careful not to jostle you too much. He dropped it to the side. That left you in the half-tank binder, the black fabric making your skin look pale beneath it.

“Please don’t stare…” you murmured suddenly, and he felt his ears grow hot as he glanced away, clearing his throat.

“My apologies…”

“It’s fine, just… let’s get this over with, okay?” He nodded, turning back with a steady breath inward and reached for the hem of your binder.

This one was decidedly more tricky to remove than your hoodie. The fabric was more stiff across the front, and elastic along the back. You raised your arms over your head, breathing steadily as he slipped the tight garment up and off of you. He tried not to stare, though he did catch a quick glimpse--

He quickly looked away again, clearing his throat. “O-okay, you can lay down now.” You collapsed back against the pillow, and he bit back a stern ‘be careful’ that threatened to leave his lips as you curled into the blankets with a groan.

He fidgeted as he watched you, blanket haphazardly pulled down to reveal your chest. With a gentle motion, he pulled the blanket up to your shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles and rubbing circles on your upper arm. You whined as he moved to pull away, and he made a low, questioning sound in the back of his throat.

“Stay.”

‘I have a lot of work to do,’ he thought, but one look at your face pulled a sigh from him. If he was going to ‘make it up to you’, so to speak, then he may as well start here, right?

“Where do you want me..?” he asked quietly, voice a hushed whisper, and he blinked in surprise when your hand reached out to pull on his sweater, tugging him to lay down beside you. You crawled over to him and rested your head on his chest, wincing at the soreness of your head injury for a moment before you found a comfortable spot. His arm hovered over you, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to cause you to feel any worse, and--

“For fuck’s sake, Ford, you can hold me,” you griped, and he muttered a soft ‘language’ under his breath. The moodiness was most likely due to the concussion, sure to fade away as you healed. Still, it was a little jarring, having someone so laid back and calm being snippy. “You don’t have to sleep… I just wanna take a quick nap.” You already sounded like you were dozing off, and he chuckled lightly, rubbing your back with the arm around you while you laced your fingers with his free hand.

“You can sleep. I’ll stay awake and keep an eye out.” You nodded, unintentionally (or was it intentional?) nuzzling against his chest, and he felt his face flush.

By the time you were asleep, he was already working through different plans in his head of how to make it up to you.


	8. Chapter 8

Healing had seemed like such a slow process, even though it really only took a matter of days, and Ford was beside himself with almost glee when you said that your head no longer hurt, and the cut on your hairline had begun to heal into a pink scar. You changed the way you kept your hair, and he knew somehow it was so he wouldn’t have to see the scar.

The summer was nearing its end, and with it came a slew of trepidation. What would this mean for your relationship with him? He hadn’t yet talked to Stanley about letting you aboard the Stan-O-War II with them to sail the earth, but he wasn’t even sure if you were suited to that type of lifestyle… Putting yourself in danger’s way like that to scour the earth in search of the next anomaly or oddity? It just didn’t feel right to him just yet. And every time that his twin would mention how the summer was ending didn’t help things, either.

But now wasn’t the time to think about that. No, now that you were finally feeling well again, he was going to make it up to you somehow, and what better way than a date… the very first, proper date he had been on in a long, long time… Stars, he didn’t even want to  _ think  _ of just how long it had been. He was getting old…

Anyway! Ford cleared his throat to get your attention from where you stood behind the counter, for the first day in about a week since the, erm...incident… You were flipping through one of the Mystery Shack brochures with an amused smile on your lips until your eyes were pulled up to meet his, a more genuine, adoring smile gracing your features. He felt his heart and insides flutter, but tried not to think too much about it.

“Greetings, my dear.” You chuckled at his formal ‘greetings’ and closed the brochure, giving him your full attention. “I was wondering if, perchance, you would be able-- er, willing, to accompany me tonight.” Your brow rose at this, curiosity piquing on your face, and he continued, holding out a flier for you to take. The edges were crumpled, which you smoothed out gently on the countertop as he spoke. “They are having a drive-in movie tonight here in Gravity Falls. A sort of ‘throw-back’ or what have you.” He could remember when they were the norm, and, honestly, it didn’t really feel that long ago. “I was wondering if you might like to accompany me.”

And he was doing so good, really he was, up until your eyes widened with wonder, and your smile twitched up into something more giddy. “You want me to go to the movies with you?” He was doing so well, yet, as soon as you mumbled that awe-filled sentence, he felt his resolve crumbling, his face warming as he suddenly felt unsure.

“W-well, yes, should you deem it appropriate to go out with-- mmph!” His little statement was interrupted as you leaned over the counter and pulled on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in for a kiss. Thank goodness there were no customers around, but even so, he felt himself melting a little bit into the kiss.

“Hey hey! No smooching on the clock!” Stan’s voice broke the two of you apart, and Ford cast his brother an irritated look while you just looked … not the least bit apologetic. “Ahh, forget it. You two lovenerds go ahead and head out--”

“Did you just call us  _ love-nerds _ , Stanley??”

“--I was thinkin’ about closin’ up shop early today, anyway.”

“You really don’t need to-- The movie doesn’t start until later!” Stan waved him off, and Ford bristled when he felt your hand on his arm. He glanced over to you and saw that same smile again, and his heartbeat thudded in his ears.

“Maybe we can explore the woods a bit, go look for an anomaly or two before we go?”

And he calmed down just a bit, reaching up and grabbing your hand, because  _ no _ , this was his show, his attempt to make it up to you, and he was going to do it all right.

“Perhaps… er, I mean, no. Today is a special day, afterall!” You raised a brow, waiting, perhaps, for him to elaborate, but he never does. Instead, he raises your hand to press a kiss to you knuckles, a gentle brush of lips that sets your face aflame with a blush. Stan makes a gagging noise from across the room and, when the two of you look at him, he’s hunched over like he’s ready to vomit. “Stanley, really now, was that necessary--”

“Ah, go on, Poindexter. Go out on your first date and shut yer yap about it already! Just don’t get anything on my seats...” He waved off Ford’s offended scoff as he rounded the corner back to the living area of the shack, leaving the two of you alone.

“...Soooo, heh.” He unfurrowed his brow and turned to look at you, humming questioningly. “First date, huh?” His cheeks turned pink and he cleared his throat.

“Yes, well, uh… First date in a while. I did spend thirty years trapped in the multiverse, so…”

“Well, let me go get changed, and I’ll meet you at the car…?”

“Sounds like a plan of action!” You chuckled and leaned across to kiss him on the cheek, which he raised a hand to gently touch as you walked off down the hall and toward your room. He breathed in a slow breath before letting out a whistling exhale, a grin on his face as he made his way back down to his lab with quick steps.

He couldn’t find the iron (and doubted that Stanley had one he actually used), so he hung up his button-up shirt in the bathroom with the shower running on hot, full blast, hoping the steam would ease out the wrinkles. He looked down at himself and brushed the lint from his black slacks. They’d have to do, since his others were all in the wash. He glanced up and caught sight of himself in the mirror and frowned. There was definitive stubble on his chin and under his nose, and he’d not taken great pains to make sure he got plenty of sleep. Hopefully the slight bags under his eyes wouldn’t be noticable… His eyes then flickered down to his reflection’s chest, where it was littered with scars, small and large. He ran a broad hand across his chest and sighed. Not much he could do about that, he supposed… so he grabbed his now semi-wrinkle-free shirt and slid it on over his shoulders, doing the buttons as quickly as he could while still being accurate.

_ A tie! _ He needed a tie! He grabbed one at random, a maroon colored one with a hardly noticeable pattern, and slid it on, quickly doing it up into a knot and straightening it out in the mirror before heading up the stairs.

You were already waiting by the car for him, and…  _ Stars. _

You were dressed not too differently than he was, but it looked so much better on you. Black slacks that hugged around your hips and thighs, then flared out slightly at the calf, and a button-up in your favorite color. No tie, but, honestly, he appreciated how you left the top couple buttons undone. Made you look more casual, as opposed to his stuffiness.

When you turned to look at him, your eyes widened a fraction, just a bit, before a warm smile graced your lips. He felt himself smiling as well, though the tips of his ears felt a bit hot as your gaze roamed over him from head to toe.

“Wow, you clean up nice, Ford.” He chuckled and, not knowing what to do with his hands, put them behind his back, tangling his fingers together nervously.

“As do you! You look simply… breathtaking isn’t the word for it, but then again, I don’t know if the word exists in any language of this world.” You snorted a laugh and rolled your eyes, though the color blooming in your cheeks tells him that you’ve taken his compliment to heart. “I mean it. You make quite the handsome date, my dear.”

“Funny, I was just about to say the same of you!”

You shared a kiss before getting into the car and driving off, Stan’s warning resurfacing in Ford’s mind as he drove. Just what exactly was Stanley thinking, anyhow? Like he would do anything so barbaric as to-- to--

“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?” you asked suddenly, and he glanced over at you with a smile, giving a short nod. You reach for the controls to turn it on and some peppy boy band music starts to pour through the old speakers. Grimacing, you both sit listening to it for a moment before you move to shut it off, changing the channel.

“Must have been Mabel who was in control of the radio last…”

You settle on a station after a few tries, and Ford is only mildly insulted to hear that a song he grew up listening to was now on the oldies station. It must have been obvious on his face, because you reached over to pat his arm, murmuring something about how you loved this song still.

“Music sure has changed since I was a kid,” he mused, thinking back to the electronic sound and heavy bass of the boy band you’d both passed up.

“Ha, yeah. I mean I kind of listen to a bit of everything, so…” You shrug, “I don’t really have a type I don’t like. Except country.” Ford bit back a laugh, readjusting so that he was holding the wheel with one hand so he could snag your hand with his other.

“Don’t let Fiddleford hear you say that. That’s a man who loves his bluegrass and country music.”

He thinks back to the time you two had managed to meet, when visiting McGucket at his mansion. You’d been impressed with the house, but even moreso with his inventor status, asking what sorts of things he made. And it was silly, really, but Ford had even begun to feel the slightest bit… jealous. Even though it was obvious you weren’t interested in McGucket at all, he’d grabbed your hand and held it throughout every room during the tour, and, when you’d had a spare moment where Fiddleford left you two to go grab something he’d just invented, Ford had hugged you to his chest from behind, muttering things into your hair that you weren’t able to hear.

“--ean I don’t mind country sometimes. Some of it’s pretty okay!” Your voice brought him back to the present, and he flexed his fingers on the wheel, trying to ignore the flush across his cheeks. “It’s just when it gets all… twangy…” He snorted and raised a thick brow over the rim of his glasses. “Shut up, it’s a technical term.”

“Is it, now?”

“Yes, actually.” He cast you a glance and you stuck your tongue out at him when he just chuckled at you and your antics.

The movie didn’t start for another couple hours, and the first thing up on his list was: dinner. He’d made reservations at one of the nicer places in Gravity Falls specifically for this occasion. Planning and thought had been put into this. This was going to completely make up for what he’d done, and it was going to be perfect. He’d make certain of it.

When he pulled up to the place, you let out a low whistle, looking up at the columns and fountain out front with a raised brow. “Good thing I dressed up, huh?” you asked, and he pulled on your hand, opening the driver’s side door and getting out. You scooted across the front seat and joined him on the driver’s side, his arm around your waist as he pushed the door closed with a loud ‘thunk’. Glancing around, you let out a nervous chuckle. He gave your hip a squeeze and you leaned into him.

“Come on, now. We’re just in time for our reservation.” The kiss pressed to your forehead was light, and he unwrapped his arm from around you to instead lace your fingers together, guiding you up the front steps of the restaurant and in through the front door.

The noise was the first thing either of you noticed. The murmur of conversation, while each individual one was quiet, was almost deafening, and he felt you flinch almost immediately. Good thing he reserved a table out on the veranda! He’d quite honestly thought every single little thing through for you.

“Can I help you?” The young woman behind the podium was bored, obviously from the look on her face, and her eye shadow, while tasteful in color, was too heavy. Ford smiled politely and stepped up, releasing your hand so you could look around at the art decorating the main hall’s walls.

“Yes, a, uh, reservation for Pines.” The girl picked up the tablet-looking device in front of her and tapped in the name, scrolling to look for their reservation.

...And scrolling… and scrolling… and scrolling... 

Finally, with a frown, she tapped the thing again, long nails clicking against the glass screen. She looked up at him with a slightly annoyed expression. “How is it spelled, sir?”

“Wha-- Um, Pines? P-I-N-E-S?” He watched as she once again typed in the name, glancing back only for a second to see if you had wandered off. You were currently staring at a bust of someone, probably a Northwest, if he were to be honest, with a slightly uncomfortable look on your face. When he turned back, the girl look exasperated.

“I’m not seeing your name on the list, sir.”

Ford frowned… no, this surely was a mistake? He said as much, “There must be some mistake. I called two days ago to make a reservation for Stanford Pines and--”

“Well, I’m sorry,  _ sir _ ,” she said, the emphasis on sir coming across as very sarcastic, “but, through some sort of error, you aren’t on the list… and the restaurant is all booked up tonight. Perhaps you can try again and get in sometime tomorrow?”

“But that’s--” A touch on his hand pulled his attention over, brows furrowed, and when he saw your concerned smile, he felt himself deflate a bit. “... Alright. Thank you.” He led the two of you out, ignoring pointedly the young woman’s ‘have a nice day, sir’ and instead closed the door a bit harder behind him than was probably necessary. You breathed a sigh of relief once you were out of the restaurant, and he sighed, as well. “Well, there goes that plan… I’m sorry. I’m sure that there’s somewhere else we can go.”

Every single other place they tried was busy. With it being the end of tourist season, places were packed, and Ford was beginning to grow more and more hopeless.

“Well, the diner is open, right? Why don’t we just go there?” you suggest, and he winces slightly.

Not to say the diner had bad food, it just wasn’t… what you deserved. He grumbled under his breath, and you placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, c’mon. The movie starts in forty-five minutes, right? It’ll be quicker to just go there.” He sighed and decided you were right, of course. No sense in trying to ruin the rest of his plans just because of one little (or big) hiccup.

“You’re right, my dear. To the diner, it is.”

  
  


“Welcome to Greasy’s Diner!” The older woman looked at you through one good, blue eye, her other heavily lidded and thus hidden. The smile on her face was inviting and warm, but Ford just couldn’t seem to enjoy it, his mood a little soured. You gave a polite wave and took the extended menu from Lazy Susan, looking it over immediately. “Here you are, handsome,” she said as she handed Ford his, and he coughed into his fist, quickly bringing up the menu to hide his face. He glanced over the top of it at you and saw you frowning slightly, though whether it was because of Lazy Susan’s flirt or you trying to decide what to eat, he couldn’t tell. Before he could ask you about it, Susan was pulling a notepad out of her apron, retrieving the pen from behind her ear to write with. “What can I get for you two?”

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, with enough pickle slices to kill a man.” Ford blinked up at you, surprised, before a snort of laughter snuck past him. You just smiled ear to ear, handing Lazy Susan your menu. “Please.”

“And I’d like a turkey club, extra mayonnaise, hold the tomato, please.” Lazy Susan scribbled down your orders and took Ford’s menu with an extra level of care, batting her eyelashes (on one eye, anyway) at him. He fought the urge to look away, since that’d be rude. “Thank you, Susan.”

“Coming right up, hon.” She bustled away and passed the order through the small window to the cooks, and that was about all the attention Ford wanted to pay to anyone who wasn’t you at the moment. He checked his watch and saw that they still had forty minutes… Hopefully plenty of time to eat and get to the drive-in movie.

“So.” Your voice made him look up, and he frowned in confusion at the look you were fixing him with. “Susan, huh? … Do I need to worry?”

“Oh, stars, no! She is a lovely lady, but I’ve already got my eyes on someone…”

“Really? … Tell me about them.” Smiling, he folded his hands under his chin, tilting it downward so he could look at you over the thick top edge of his glasses.

“Well, they’re pretty incredible… I don’t think there are enough hours in the day to tell you just how wonderful they are.” Your face flushed a lovely shade of rose pink, and he chuckled, reaching out and placing his hand palm up on the table. After a moment, you placed your hand in his, fingers curling around one another.

“That’s funny. I’ve had my eyes on someone who’s wonderful, too.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm…” Your hum reverberates through his chest, making his heart do little flips and jumps against his ribcage. “He’s wonderfully kind, and smart. Brilliant, even. And he’s handsome, too… and he tries too hard sometimes, but I appreciate every little thing he does.” His heart skipped a whole two beats at that, and he choked back a sound as you gave his hand a small squeeze. Looking at him like that, through your thick lashes, your eyes shining bright… it ought to be illegal. His face felt hot as he looked away, raising his other hand to make a fist in front of his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“Well, then… he sounds like quite a catch.”

“He is…” You sat back against the booth you were in, smiling at him. “He’s even taking me to a movie tonight. A drive-in.”

“I’m sure he’ll treat you like a proper gentleman, as you deserve.” You were both gravitating toward the center of the table, leaning over it until your noses were touching.

“I’m sure he will,” you whispered, and your lips just barely brushed when a plate of food slid underneath your faces on the table. Ford jumped back, startled, and you turned to look up at Lazy Susan, who had a knowing smile on her face.

“Oh, to be in love~. Well, eat up, you two, if you wanna make your movie date!”

“Wait, were you listeni--”

“Here you go, dearie! Turkey club and a burger, with all the pickles we had in the kitchen. Enjoy!”

She did, in fact, set a small plate piled full of pickles onto the table next to your burger. You looked at it and started snickering, hand covering your mouth to stifle the sounds. He couldn’t help but chuckle, as well. It was really ridiculous.

“I can’t believe she gave me  _ all of them _ …”

“You’re not going to be able to finish those--” You fixed him with such a determined stare that he gulped, scooting his plate closer to himself.

“Ohoho, don’t underestimate me, Stanford Pines.”

  
  


You had, to your credit, eaten the entire thing, down to the last pickle slice. When Lazy Susan came and brought you your check, she had placed a few peppermints onto the little tray the receipt came on and gave you a wink. He laughed as you unwrapped two and popped them into your mouth, wincing at the flavor.

“Pickles and peppermint… yuck.”

He checked his watch, and his eyes widened slightly. “Well my dear, we have to hurry. The movie starts soon!” He pulled out his wallet and slapped down some cash (as well as enough for a hearty tip for Susan), then grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the diner at a run.

By the time you got to the place where the movie was, it was packed, but he managed to find a spot somewhere near the middle. Not the most ideal… He was hoping you’d be there early enough to get a spot near the front, but he supposed there was nothing to be done about that.

The opening credits of the movie were going as he put the car into park and turned the key, shutting off the engine.

“So what movie are we seeing, anyway?” you asked, though your eyes were narrowed as you listened to the music. Perhaps you recognized it. He smiled slightly.

“Ah, something from 1986. I don’t know for sure if you would have seen it… It’s a movie called Labyrinth.”

“Wait, Labyrinth??” You swiveled your head around to him, and he blinked owlishly at you, at how loudly you’d repeated him. “As in,  _ the _ Labyrinth? As in ‘the movie starring that cutie David Bowie’ Labyrinth??”

“Wait, David Bowie? The singer? I didn’t know he acted.”

“You haven’t seen this??” His smile faded slightly. In ‘86, he was on his fourth year through the multidimensional portal… but he didn’t want to bring down the mood, so he didn’t say that.

“No, I, ah… I haven’t.”

“Oh man, you’re in for a  _ treat! _ ” you said excitedly, grabbing his hand from the seat between you and lacing your fingers together.

Ford watched you for a moment longer before dialogue from the movie started, and he looked up at the large screen… until a thought occurred to him.

“Wait, let me just…” He removed his hand from yours and pressed the button to lower the convertible top, opening the car up to the sky above. It was evening already, the sunlight beginning to fade into reds and oranges and deep blues. “There! Now we can see better.” He draped his arm along the back of the seat, and you took the silent invitation to scoot closer, leaning against his side.

The movie was… interesting, that’s to be sure. The usage of puppets and computer generated imaging was impressive, considering it was made in the late eighties. He’d seen what movies were capable of now, and, while things had gotten more realistic, there was a certain charm to movies like this.

The first musical number came, and he thought he heard you mumbling under your breath. Imagine his surprise when you’re singing along. You glanced up at him, mid-lyric, and froze, your face flushing slightly and an apology on your lips.

“No no, don’t stop, I want to hear you sing.”

You chuckled and leaned in against his chest, “You remind me of the babe~”

“What babe?”

“The babe with the power~”

“What power?”

“The power of Voodoo!”

“Hoodoo?”

“You do!”

“Do what?”

“Remind me of the babe!” You two laughed, and he watched you from the corner of his eye as you danced in your seat and sang along with the movie. He felt adoration swell in his chest as he watched you. While he, himself, would never be able to be so silly, he did enjoy watching you be so...carefree, with him.

  
  


He felt your eyes on him, after a while of watching the movie, and then your hand was grasping his, pulling it down so that his arm rested around your shoulders. He pulled you into his side and chuckled, though a bit of pink dusted over his cheekbones and nose.

“You know you’re mouthing the words as you watch, right?” he teased, and you let out a little indignant scoff.

“I am not. I would never do something so nerdy. ….What?” The look he fixed you with was something meant to be playful, and it must have come across correctly, because you shoved on his chest, giggling.

  
  


It was a … strange movie, but you enjoyed it, and, honestly, that was all that he wanted. However, as he glanced around, he saw that many people had decided to forego watching the movie in lieu of..erm… kissing. And lots of it.

What was the point in going to a drive-in movie if you were just going to smooch and not watch??

Yet…

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, frowning slightly. It wasn’t completely uncalled for, he supposed.. Being in a confined space with someone, alone, did tend to make romantic feelings surface… At least, that was the logical conclusion. Leaning over closer to you, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Hmm?” you hummed quietly, turning your face his way, but your eyes were still glued to the large screen.

And he paused, feeling nervous… he had never been the one to initiate before, not really. So it’s with a small, steady breath inward that he tucks a hand underneath your chin, tilting it upward so he could meet your lips in a kiss. His eyes slowly close, and he feels you lean further into the kiss, a smile turning your lips upward at the corners.

When he feels your tongue press along the seam of his lips, though, he gasps, lips parting, and you pull back, frowning slightly. 

“Sorry… was that--” He silences you with another kiss, and you maneuver yourself so that you’re situated on his lap. With what little thought he has left, he pushes the button to raise the convertible top again, concealing you from most prying eyes.

Your breath was soft against his lips, warm, comforting and familiar, and his hands settled firmly on your hips, giving a small squeeze when you brought his bottom lip between your teeth gently. He swallowed thickly and allowed his tongue to slip out, meeting yours in the same moment. You both draw in a short breath, freezing… then slowly, so slowly, easing into one another. You twined your tongue with his, breathing slowly through your nose, while he was struggling to keep his heart rate under control. How were you seeming so calm?? He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

Your hands smoothed up over his chest to his shoulders, arms linking lazily around his neck, and he gave your hips another squeeze. When you broke apart, it was with a small smile, and you pressed your foreheads together with a sigh.

“...I love you.”

He wondered, for a moment, if perhaps he’d said something wrong, because suddenly there were tears in your eyes, and you had pulled back from him, looking at him properly.

“...Again,” you murmured softly, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

He smiled, “I adore and cherish and love you, my dear.” You gave him a watery smile, the kind that made your eyes sparkle and your cheeks red, and leaned in to kiss him again. And again. And again.

Before he knew it, the movie was coming to a close, and he felt only slightly bad that he didn’t remember what it was he was watching, or why they were there.

“I’m a damn fool,” he muttered, and you frowned at him slightly. “I was so worried about making tonight absolutely perfect… but it already is, because you’re here.”

“You are a fool.” He didn’t feel any insult from it, instead he just chuckled deep in his throat, until you cupped his cheeks in your hands. “And I love you, too.” You shared a deep, lengthy kiss, and when you pulled away, he rubbed circles on your hips with his thumbs.

“Let’s get out of here, what do you say?”

Your eyes were shining so bright from the light of the screen, and he fought the urge to lean in and kiss you all over again.

“... Okay.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's entirely NSFW. Scroll to the very end for a TLDR of what basically happens. It's not really important, it's just another step their relationship takes. ^^
> 
> Also! I'm taking requests for Stan/Reader and Ford/Reader on my Tumblr (life-sans-sin.tumblr.com) so yeah! Send me some stuff so I can write!

***NSFW START***

The keys were tossed onto the kitchen table and he took your hand firmly in his, leading you down the secret entrance to his lab and locking the way behind you, rendering the keypad useless. Sure, there was a good chance that it may stay that way until he input the reversal key code on the opposite side… but he’d cross that proverbial bridge when he came to it. As soon as the door was locked, you pressed him to the wall and kissed him, hands on his face and pulling him in closer. He did his best to reciprocate before pulling away for air, picking you up, a leg on either side of his hips and your arms wrapped snugly around his neck, and carried you easily down the stairs.

You let out little breathless giggles the whole way, kicking your feet, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

He wrestled the door at the bottom of the stairs open and used his foot to push it, swinging outward until it hit the wall with a ‘thunk’. Your lips were back on his, tongue peeking out to play along his bottom lip, and he groaned, opening his mouth to allow you access.

“You sound amazing,” you murmured against his lips, and he colored from the praise. “Couch?”

Truthfully, he wanted to cringe at that notion, but… Well, your room was up near everyone else, whereas down here you were more or less granted privacy. No one to overhear anything… Not that he assumed this was going anywhere in particular. He nodded finally, and you tucked your head into his shoulder, pressing kisses there while he carried you over to the couch. He turned and sat heavily on the cushions, which squeaked in protest, and you were on him again.

Your lips left an invisible trail, like you were mapping out his face and neck with them. But the way your lips dragged against his stubble had him shuddering, and when you pressed your lips to his pulse, tongue flicking out to touch it, he thought his heart may have stopped.

“W-wait, a-are we…?” You sat up and looked at him, your stare heated against his, and he felt himself flush from the neck up. “I… I don’t…”

He didn’t want this to be some quick thing, done and over with on the couch.

“Hey.” He looked up at you and you touched his cheek, leaning your forehead against his. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he did! It was just… he wanted it to be...different.

“I’m not really feeling like going all the way anyway… so…” A smile pulled up at your lips, and he swallowed hard. “How about I help you out… and we can cuddle?”

Well, when you put it like that…

He nodded, feeling breathless, and you chuckled. “Relax, Ford. I won’t do anything you don’t want. Promise.” With that, you leaned back in for a slow kiss, your hands moving to untie his tie. You then ran your fingertips over the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. He broke away with a groan when your hands smoothed over the hair on his stomach, all the way up to his chest and shoulders. You pushed the garment off of his arms, and he leaned forward to let it slide behind him. “Are you okay so far..?”

His reply was another kiss, this one more heated, and you moaned against his lips. He swallowed it up greedily, wanting to hear more and more of you. When you sat back and started to undo your own buttons, however, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. You weren’t injured this time, so you had no problem slowly unbuttoning your own shirt, sliding it off your shoulders with a smile. You were left in your binder, and as your hands went to it, he grabbed hold of your wrists, frowning slightly.

“W-wait, you don’t have to if…” The look in your eyes made his voice die out, and he allowed his hands to fall rest on your thighs as you pulled the black fabric up and over your head. He sucked in a breath, eyes lowering to roam over your body, but you pressed your bare chest to his as you went in for another, searing kiss. And oh, how he missed this. He wasn’t sure if he had ever had the pleasure of experiencing such intimate closeness, skin on skin like this. His hands dragged up your thighs and went back to your hips, pulling down on you as his hips rolled upward.

An airy moan broke past your lips, and you nibbled at his lips before sliding your tongue in alongside his. It was all sensation, feeling, and he was beginning to feel almost a little overwhelmed by it all. So imagine his surprise when you broke away from him, getting down on your knees between his. The burning look in your eyes told him everything, and he flushed.

“Y-you don’t… you don’t have to. I’d be fine with just--”

“Do you want me to?” And he stopped, because yeah, he did… but not if it made you uncomfortable. Then you smiled up at him, nuzzling against his knee. “I told you, I don’t mind doing this for you. I want to.” His mouth felt incredibly dry as he swallowed, and gave a short nod. “Okay.” You rubbed your thumbs against the tops of his thighs, soothing his worries, before setting to work.

You pressed kiss after kiss along his inseam, hands sliding upward slowly until you reached buckle. You undid it, and palmed against the bulge in his slacks, and his head fell back momentarily, stunned.

Who knew it felt this much better to not do it yourself.

The button was popped and the fly undone, and he helped by lifting himself just enough that you could shimmy down his pants. He fought the urge to cover himself, not after you had revealed yourself like you did… but still, the thought was there, the worry of ‘am I good enough’. He chanced a look down at your face and was embarrassed to find you staring, saying nothing.

“You’re gorgeous…” you murmured, and he wanted to feel embarrassed, but all that he felt was a deep yearning in his chest, his hands reaching for you, smoothing over your hair, cupping your jaw, anything. Anything he could touch from where he sat.

Your hand was so small compared to his, and was missing a finger, but he suddenly realized that your touch was the only thing he’d ever wanted. Your fingers wrapped around the base of his dick and gave a small squeeze, and he groaned softly, trying to contain his noises and failing at how new and exciting everything felt. Your name left his lips in a rush of air as you dragged your hand upward, twisting your wrist at the top, then sliding back down. You set up a pace like that, and his hips lifted slightly into every thrust of your hand.

He must have closed his eyes, must have been too into the feelings, because he nearly choked on air when he felt warmth and wetness envelop the tip of his cock. It spread slowly downward, and he pried his eyes open just enough to look at you, and hef felt himself twitch in your mouth.

He had never seen anything quite like it… and he wanted to commit it to memory.

His fingers curled through your hair on the top of your head, fighting the powerful urge to push you down, knowing that would only do harm.

“Ford.” His name left your lips in a moan from around his cock, and he thought he would come from the sound alone. Every muscle was tensed like a guitar string, struggling to keep still as the hand in your hair curled into a fist. The accidental tug on your hair sent you moaning around his dick, and he groaned loudly, a curse falling from his lips.

“Ah, damn… I’m… I’m not going to--” You brought your hand back into the mix, squeezing around his base while you moved easily along his shaft with your mouth, and he tossed his head back so hard he feared he cracked the drywall. “Please, please, I love you so much,  _ please _ \--” You hollowed out your cheeks as you gave steady suction, and he lost it. One hand in your hair, clenched into a fist, the other digging into your shoulder, his hips thrust erratically in little, shallow motions as he came. You pulled away with a surprised sound and got up, going over to the bathroom and washing your mouth out in the sink.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean-- I mean, it wasn’t my intention to--”

“Ford.” You leaned against the door frame, a warm smile lighting your eyes, and he stopped, chest still heaving for breath.

“Th-that was… That was incredible. Better than I ever could have imagined…” You made your way back to the couch, carefully tucking him back into his boxers and helping him pull up his pants. “Wait.. You didn’t--”

“Shhh, Ford, it’s okay.” You motioned for him to lay down, which he did gladly, and you grabbed a blanket before laying on top of him, your head on his chest. The blanket was pulled over you both, and he found himself, once again, marvelling at how good it felt to be so close to you. Your skin was soft, and warm, and his was--

You ran your fingertips over a particularly sensitive scar and he shivered, letting out a weak groan. The frown on your face was one of concern, one of thoughtfulness. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and wrapped his arms snugly around your waist

“We’re survivors…” you murmured, and… he couldn’t argue with that. Not one bit.

“For what it’s worth, I’m truly glad that my life happened to where I got to meet you like this.” He sighed, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I just wish you’d met me as you are, when I was younger.” You gave a thoughtful hum. “... Then again, I might’ve been a fool and passed you up for my studies.”

“Well, Mr. 12 PhD’s, what makes you say that?” you rested your chin on his sternum, and he chuckled.

“That’s fair… but if I only knew where my life would take me, maybe I would have stopped to enjoy things more back then…” You lean forward and press a kiss to his chin, then his lips, and he pulls you even closer.

For all that he’d gone through in his life, he wouldn’t change a thing.

Afterall, each and every thing brought him to you…

****NSFW END**** **  
** [NSFW TLDR; They get home and Reader gives Ford a blowjob.]


	10. Chapter 10

The summery days turned cooler, and, soon enough, they’d found themselves at the bus stop. Mabel and Dipper stood with their bags and things they’d acquired over their summer, and Stan pulled them each in for a hug.

“Not like it’s a big deal, but I might end up missing you punks while you’re gone--”

“Might, huh?” Mabel asked, grinning as she pressed a kiss to her Grunkle’s cheek. Stan scoffed and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. Ford could tell his brother was emotional, but just didn’t want to show it.

“Yeah, maybe… Whatever, your bus is comin’! Ford, your turn!”

Ford chuckled as his twin turned away, discreetly raising a hand to wipe at his eyes under his glasses, the eldest sighed. His brother would probably never change. Ford began to kneel down but was swept up in two pairs of arms, the tops of their heads nearly meeting his chest, and he wondered just where the time had gone. They’d grown at least another inch since being here. He noted, with some amount of amusement, that Mabel was no longer the tallest… no longer the Alpha Twin.

“You two kids be safe on your way home, yes?” The two of them nodded, and he didn’t miss the way Dipper’s hat tipped further down to cover his face. Without much thought, he snatched the hat clean off his head, surprising the teen, and ruffled his brown hair. The smile on his face was genuine. “I eagerly await your first video call to tell me all about what is going on in your lives… And, the newest update to your blog.”

Dipper’s ears turned red and he snatched the hat back, pulling it down on his head with more force than necessary. “Y-yeah!” he said, voice cracking slightly, and Ford knew he was trying not to cry, as well.

“Boys are so emotional…” Mabel sighed, jumping up to press a kiss to Ford’s cheek before stopping short, then pulling away. He frowned in confusion, but her grin said it all. A pair of warm hands rested on his shoulders, and he relaxed into the touch a bit. You circled around him and swiped Mabel into a hug, and the teen just giggled and hugged you back even tighter.

“We’ll miss you two,” you say, grabbing hold of Dipper’s arm and pulling him into the hug, too. He just chokes and looks up to Ford for help, who just smiles. There was no helping him out of this. “Thank you. For being my people, I mean.” The teens look up at you, surprised, then level you with identical smiles.

“Well, yeah, you’re family--”

“Sure! I mean, it’s only a matter of time before Grunkle Ford propos--”

Ford saw your eyes widen, and he felt his heart stop, and he quickly cleared his throat to interrupt. “Alright, that’s quite enough of that!” The teens laughed at him, and he couldn’t help but smile fondly. The sight of you embracing the people he cared about most was… warm. Comforting.

The bus pulled up, and Waddles climbed aboard without a single fuss, though Ford gave the driver a look that said ‘if you don’t, you’ll have trouble’. You slowly detached from them and stood upright, petting Mabel’s hair and straightening Dipper’s hat. You turned away then, back to Ford, and the look on your face was touched with just a twinge of sadness. He put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, just in time for the soft ‘click’ of a camera to go off.

Dipper and Mabel both held up their phones, grinning ear to ear, and he felt his face warm as he realized what just happened.

“Something to remember you by!” they both shouted as they ran onto the bus, laughing. Ford muttered under his breath about scheming teens, and Stan muttered in agreement as he moved to stand next to the two of you.

As the bus pulled away, you pulled up the hood of your hoodie, but Ford could still see the faint tracks of tears going down your cheeks. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then elbowed Stanley, who started chuckling knowingly at him.

With the summer gone and over with, that meant that the Stan-O-War II was waiting… but he still had a decision to make. And questions to ask.

He could only hope that this would go well for the both of you.

-

He found you sitting quietly at the kitchen table, in the same spot you always sat for family meals, a coffee cup full of what smelled like black tea in your hands and an unreadable expression on your face. Rather than walking in, he stood at the doorway and cleared his throat, watching closely as you jumped, tea nearly sloshing out and onto the table. When your eyes found him, they lingered only for a brief second before returning to staring into your cup.

“Geez, don’t scare me like that…” And while he could insist that he did everything he could to avoid doing just that, that you were, perhaps, just jumpy… he didn’t. He apologized, taking a step into the room more fully then, hands clasped behind his back. Your fingers rubbed against the warm ceramic of your mug, chewed-down nails scratching lightly against its smooth surface. He didn’t know what was on your mind, but he wanted to. He wanted to know what had you so contemplative… So he found himself sitting across from you at the table, hands folded politely on the table top as he waited for you to tell him.

  
  


Yet, as the silence bore on, he found himself feeling...nervous? Why was he nervous? Did, perhaps, what Mabel said during their goodbye get to you…? Before he could ask, you lifted your cup and drained the rest of your tea, setting it down with a soft ‘clink’ on the table and scooted your chair back.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk in the woods.”

Ford frowned; the woods were dangerous, mostly because of all the weirdness and oddities that roamed it. Sure, he’d shown you the deer that he, at the time, had most recently come across, but there was plenty more that he hadn’t gotten around to showing you, or explaining… Wow, he really didn’t talk that much to you about things, did he?

Before he could settle in his guilt, though, he reached out and grabbed your hand gently in his, feeling something roll in his gut when you didn’t turn to look at him.

“It’s dangerous to go alone--”

“Take this?” you mused, chuckling, and he sighed.

“I mean it. At least let me come with you.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself, you know,” you say, eyes flicking over to his face for a split second before looking down at the floor again. “I just need some time to myself…”

Maybe you were starting to regret being with him…? But, but no! You two had done nothing but grow closer since your date, enough that Stan was rolling his eyes more than usual. And that only made him think of the future even more. What would he do, when it came time to take the Stan-O-War II out to sea again? Stan couldn’t go alone, and Ford would never want him to.. But, he also didn’t want to leave you behind…

Slowly, he released his hold on your hand, allowing it to join his other hand on the table, drumming nervously.

“Very well…” he said finally, watching as your frame relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving it. “But if you run into trouble--”

“I’ll be fine, Ford. I promise.” You turned to him then, finally, giving him a small but warm smile, and he felt himself relax...though only a little. As you turned and walked out of the Shack, he watched carefully out the window as you went into the woods. Maybe it was the way you looked all around you to make sure you weren’t being followed… but something about the way you were acting made him get to his feet.

He wasn’t following you… he was… he was just happening to go the same way! That’s all. Yeah…

This was the thought he had as he crouched behind trees, peering out to make sure you hadn’t seen him. You stopped and lifted up on your tip toes, reaching into the hollowed out husk of a tree and pulling out a grocery bag. He felt an eyebrow raise. Just what was it you were doing…?

  
  


You walked until you were standing at the entrance to a cave, and he felt the powerful urge to run forward and check things out before you went in. Who knows what sort of creatures could exist in that cave?! What on earth were you thinking?? So imagine his surprise when you sat down on the hard earth a few yards from the entrance of the cave, whistling.

That surprise only increased exponentially when something came out to your call… a pack of somethings, that is.

And they were something he had yet to see here in Gravity Falls! His curiosity began to get the better of him, and he stepped around the tree to get a better look at them.

They were wolf cubs, young enough that they still stumbled when they walked and romped, but old enough that their eyes were open and their ears were upright. Their fur was a deep black, with what looked like glowing orange embers shining from beneath. Were they hot to the touch? He watched you closely, nervous, but the way you just laughed when they jumped into your lap assuage his fears of you getting burned. Their eyes are hot spots of orange, glowing just like the ‘embers’ beneath their fur. Five of them in total, all crawling all over you as you laughed and tried to pet each one.

Was this what you were sneaking off to do…?

He took another curious step forward, not noticing the stick beneath his boot until he snapped it in half. Immediately the cubs jumped to life, out of you lap and into a line between you and him. You turned and got to your feet, hands balled into fists at your sides, a scowl on your face, and it was so unlike you that he couldn’t help but step out fully, hands up.

The little growls that met his ears were… adorable, in one way, but threatening in another, because he could see the flames beginning to lick around their frames, making them appear bigger and more dangerous than they probably were.

“Ford, stay put,” you said, just in time, because he was about to take another step closer. The cubs were only a few yards away from him at this point, slowly approaching. You stepped around them and walked out to him, frowning up at him sincerely enough that he felt bad. “So much for being alone, huh…?” He winced slightly, hands moving into the pockets of his jacket.

“I was worried about you… I’m sorry. I should have trusted your judgement.” His eyes darted out over the top of your head, though, to look curiously at the pups, who were looking on at the two of you in some mix of trepidation and confusion. “So, this is…?”

“Right…” You took his hand, pulling it out of his pocket and pulling him over to the group of pups, whose hackles raised slightly until you shushed them. “Stop that, all of you. He’s safe. …” You then turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling your nose into his neck, and he sucked in a breath, muttering your name with some confusion. “I’m marking you, shush.” You sounded embarrassed, so he just kept his hands at his sides while you did your thing. When you pulled away, it was with a small, flustered frown. “I didn’t want you to know yet… I wanted them all to be healthy before you met them.”

“They are, though. They look like quite marvelous specimens of...fire...wolf things--”

“Ember wolves.”

“Ember wolves… You even came up with a name for them that was clever.” He stared at you, fondness creeping into his expression, and you opened your mouth to retort when he felt something on his pant leg. One glance down, and he saw that one of the ‘ember wolf’ pups had grabbed it in their fiery fangs, tugging on it. He chuckled and knelt down, and the little pup ran away to hide behind its brothers and sisters. “Where are the parents…?”

“In the cave… They’re, uh… they didn’t make it…” And you sound so sad, he can’t help but reach for your hand, giving it a small squeeze. You tug lightly on his hand, leading him to follow you into the cave. The pups all yipped and barked at your feet, and Ford was a bit distracted by it until he caught the faint smell of burnt fur. When he looked up, he saw two skeletal corpses that were obviously canine in nature. They were massive, though, the skull of one about the size of his torso. You let go of his hand and approached the skeletal remains, reaching inside the ribcage and pulling out a very small lump of black fur. It whined and whimpered as you handled it, and he heard you shushing it gently, tucking it into your arms.

“What is that..?” he asked, his curiosity far too great, and you rolled your shoulders slightly, bringing the little thing up closer for his scrutiny. It was obviously, upon closer inspection, another pup, but this one was...different. Whereas the others were glowing that vibrant, everchanging orange, this one was dark as coal, no light anywhere, and its eyes were hard and black, with only the faintest amount of light coming from the very center. “Fascinating… It appears to be the runt of the litter, I take it?” You nodded, and he adjusted his glasses, leaning in for a closer look. The way it rooted around at your shirt told him it was hungry, possibly starving, and that was why you’d chosen to take care of it.

“I couldn’t just let little Ash go out… So I’ve been trying my best to keep him going, but…” You looked down, frown marring your face, and he reached for you, tipping your chin upward to look at him with a smile.

“Maybe I can be of assistance to you in this endeavor? I may know nothing about these creatures, but I’m sure I can find something to help.” You stared up at him for a moment, stunned… then smiled, leaning down suddenly to press a kiss to his fingers.

“I can’t believe you’re not mad…”

“Mad? Are you kidding? You discovered something completely unique! And you held your own enough against these pups to become their new parent of sorts!” The smile on his face was enthused, excited. “I’m so proud of you.” And oh, the way your face lit up at those words… He’d have to remember to tell you that more often. You shrugged your shoulders and mumbled under your breath in embarrassment, and he chuckled lightly. “May I?” he asked, holding out his hands for the black pup in your arms.

“Huh…? Even though you’ve seen what they’re capable of?”

“This jacket has seen its fair share of fires. I’m certain I’ll be fine.”

-

Stanford quickly pat out the fire on his elbow and shooed off the pup that was biting at his coat, ignoring the little growl he got in return as he gave a sigh. The pups wanted to play with their runt sibling, but, of course, they were too unwell to play. Whenever Ford tried to put them down, they just went ragdoll, limp, and laid on their sides while their siblings pawed at them endlessly.

“I just can’t think of what to do…” You murmured, and Ford looked over to catch you digging through the grocery sacks you’d pulled from the tree. In it was puppy formula (he wasn’t sure if that would be helpful, though it was worth a shot), dried beef sticks, bottles of water… Frowning, he turned when he heard a loud crunching noise and caught sight of one of the pups chewing on a dry stick lying on the ground. “Ah, nono! Don’t do that!” You quickly got up and walked over to the pup, who let out a little warning growl as you grabbed hold of the stick. “Gimme that, you--” They chomped a piece off of it and rolled away, sitting and chewing it up. “Oh no no no don’t you eat that!” He watched with slight amusement as you scooped up the pup, holding it belly-up as you tried to pry its mouth open.

It swallowed the stick.

Flames shot out from its back, like extensions of its fur, and, startled, you dropped it. Ford got to his feet and ran over to you, frowning. “Are you okay??” He looked you over, hands smoothing over your hoodie, checking for burns. When he found none, he let out a small sigh of relief. “Good, I am glad you are unhurt.” Then, turning back to the group of pups, he watched as they picked up little bits of sticks and dead leaves and ate them, a similar effect happening. “I think we have finally figured out what they need… and I think I know how to help this little one.”

-

“Ford, this is crazy.”

“Yes, but it’s genius!”

You rolled your eyes at him, carrying one of the bottles of lighter fluid while he got the other, along with an arm load of wood. It wasn’t a perfect plan. Hell, he wasn’t even really one hundred percent sure it would work. But he was at least ninety six percent certain, and that was his minimum to call a plan ‘fool proof’.

“You’re sure this isn’t just going to hurt Ash…?” you asked, and he wanted to tell you how naming a wild creature was just asking for trouble, but he didn’t.

“At least ninety-six percent sure!” The look you gave him was withering, and he chuckled. “Come now, trust me. This is going to work out, one way or another, I’m certain of it!” You sighed, staring down at the bottle of lighter fluid, then at the pups sitting curled around one-another at your feet, then to him with a small, hesitant smile.

“I trust you.” He felt his chest swell with some emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to. Putting down the firewood, he arranged it carefully into a makeshift fire pit and uncapped the lighter fluid, pouring on a hefty amount before tossing the bottle aside.

“Drat-- I forgot a lighter. I’ll have to make do with some sticks and--”

“Here, Ford.” You pulled a cheapy bic lighter out of your hoodie pocket, smirking as the face he made obviously called for it. He was… well, surprised that you were carrying a lighter, considering he’d never seen you smoke.

“Thank you, my dear. Now! To see if this is really going to work!”

He lit the fire, and no sooner had he taken a step back from the initial flare did the pups all run toward the fire. You moved forward, reaching to stop them, but he put his arm out in front of you, watching thoughtfully. As the five healthy pups all curled around the logs, their ‘embers’ beneath their fur began to glow brightly, oranges and yellows that were ever shifting. Their fur extended in flame, and it added to the fire he had built. “Incredible…”

“It really is…” Wolf pups that ate kindling and grew like fire. He wondered how big these things could really get… He wondered just how dangerous they could become. But all those negative thoughts shook from his head when he felt your hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see you staring in awe. Then your eyes met his, and he felt his heart flutter in his chest at the way you were looking at him, so full of awe and wonder. “...This is going to work…” He scoffed lightly, looking away as he felt the flush overtake his cheeks again.

“Of course it will. I told you it would!” He tried to sound insulted, but really… he was much too caught up in the way you were just looking at him to even sound upset. A little disbelieving laugh full of elation spilled past your lips, and you set down the bottle of lighter fluid, moving to pick up the limp, black pile of fur that was the sixth pup. The light in his eyes was even more dim than before, and he could practically feel your worry from the look on your face. “We should hurry. Here, hand them to me--”

“No, I… I want to do this. Please.”

Ford quickly shrugged off his coat and put it around your shoulders, watching you carefully as you slid first one arm in, then switched the pup to the other arm so you could put that arm into a sleeve as well. He started to take off his gloves, but you stopped him by putting a hand on his, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips, lingering and sweet, before you pulled away with a small smile. That light in your eyes was something familiar to him, and he was so, so glad you were able to experience it.

The light of adventure. The light of intrigue and curiosity. The light of love.

“Okay… here we go.” Ford watched as you moved to sit next to the fire, grabbing the small bottle of lighter fluid and popping open the cap. You dribbled the lighter fluid onto the pups nose, and you held your breath… Ford didn’t realize he was, too, until he felt the familiar burn in his lungs for air. The air left in a loud huff as a weakly glowing blue tongue peeked out, very unlike the orange-yellows of its siblings. It lapped up the lighter fluid, the beginnings of embers showing beneath the jet black fur.

Then, an explosion of fire enveloped you, obscuring you from view.

Ford felt his heart sink into his stomach, panic settling in. He called your name, but the only sound he could hear was the rush of fire and air as the flames climbed higher and higher. He was grateful, in some part in the far back of his mind, that the trees were further back, that they were in a dirt and rock clearing near the cave, because otherwise, who’s to say this wouldn’t have caused a wildfire?

The blue of the flames made him remember things he’d just as soon forget, a laugh echoing in the back of his head, and he felt his hands twitch toward the knife kept at his side.

The flames took form, a glowing, ethereal blue and white wolf standing over where you were sitting. He called your name again…

…

“Ford!” There, his name, leaving your lips in a tone that wasn’t quite fearful, but wasn’t completely calm, either. He stepped a few paces forward, and the glowing fire wolf thing turned to look at him, bearing the white-hot spots of its teeth. He stood his ground, then, after a long, long moment, it bowed its head, and the flames parted, revealing you where you sat.

Your name left his lips in a rush of air, and he rushed forward to grab you just before you fell to the hard earth, your knees giving out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he rambled, looking you over to see how serious your injuries were...yet, there were none. Not a single burn, not even any singed hair. His eyes widened in disbelief as you fixed him with a smile.

“Ash is okay…” you said weakly, tears choking your voice and spilling past your lashes. He looked back, and the flames began to recede, revealing the littlest pup, standing proudly and looking like he were more than just the runt of the litter. The other pups gathered around him, all rubbing up against him affectionately, and little sparks began to fly off from where their fur rubbed together. 

“He’s more than okay. ...You saved him.” You turn away slightly, a frown pulling down at your lips. 

“It was your idea that saved him… If anything, I was probably killing him all along, and--” He acted without really thinking, pulling you in for a firm kiss, hands digging into your shoulders.

  
“No. I never would have known about them in time if you hadn’t shown me--”

“You mean if you hadn’t followed when I didn’t want you to--”

“So take credit where credit is damned due. You’re a marvel… even more marvelous than these ‘ember wolves’.”

Your face tinged with pink, and you wanted to turn away again, he could tell...but instead you just kissed him again, and the two of you tried to ignore the united howl the pups all gave as their flames cast a silhouette on the ground behind you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You fall into a bit of depression, and you get some comfort from a couple of surprising sources.

The time had almost come to board the Stan-O-War II again and set sail...and, like an idiot, he had yet to breach the subject with you at all. He assumed you knew about it, and, perhaps, had assumed you would ask to come along.. To which he would say yes! Absolutely!

...But you hadn’t. And, if anything, you were starting to behave rather strangely these days. Worryingly strange…

Not like in a you-might-be-possessed kind of strange, stars no, thank goodness for that! But in more of a….well….

He looked around the gift shop area for you and, finding no one, frowned. It had been a couple weeks now, and sure, he had gotten engrossed in going to visit the Ember Wolves now and again, to take note of them and their behaviors and pack-mentalities, but you and he had hardly had any time together… well, not just intimately, but at all! Normally you accompanied him on his adventures, much like Dipper had in the summers before, but lately you’d been saying ‘no thanks’, claiming that you were tired.

...He needed to find Stanley. To talk about a few things, but mostly to try and get to the bottom of whatever it was going on with you.

It only took a bit of searching the house to find Stan, leaned against the open fridge door, a beer in hand. Ford looked at the clock and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t even noon, and yet his twin was drinking…

“Stanley, have you seen them anywhere?” Ford went right out and asked, no beating around the bush here, and his twin turned with a small frown on his face, brows furrowed.

“Who?” Exasperated, Ford pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets, but Stanley just laughed. “Ah can it, Sixer, I know who you’re talkin’ about. They’ve been in their room.”

“...All morning?”

Stan snorted, “Try since last night. Kid hasn’t left their room in hours.” Ford frowned, nervousness tugging on the edges of his brain, but he shook it off.

“Right. Of course.”

“...Y’know, you’d know that if you were keepin’ up with ‘em.”

“... What exactly does that mean, Stanley?” Ford’s brown eyes narrowed, and his brother’s did the same.

“It  _ means _ , Stanford, that you got sucked up in whatever new discovery it was, the fire huskies--”

“ _ Ember Wolves,  _ Stan--”

“Whatever! You got so caught up in that, that you completely forgot about your ...eh…” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “Whatever you two are… are you dating, or…?” Ford felt his face flush indignantly and he crossed his arms, turning away from his twin to try and compose himself.

“They… We haven’t put a name to anything yet.” Stan groaned and smacked a hand to his forehead before dragging it down his face, mumbling something about idiot geniuses, and Ford turned with a glare. “But that has nothing to do with this, right? So what if I was working on noting down a new discovery--  _ that’s what I do for a living. _ ”

“Yeah, but you gotta remember your partner, too, ya idiot! No wonder they’re so depressed--”

“Depressed?” The word hit Ford square in the chest, and his frown deepened. Was that… what you were? You were showing all the signs, and you obviously had a past history of it… He wondered if you were doing  _ that  _ again, and just the thought alone made him feel sick to his stomach. It must’ve shown on his face as well, because Stan put a hand on his shoulder, looking equally concerned, though for totally different reasons.

“Hey… Look, Sixer, I know a thing or two about it. It’s...lonely. I’m sure all you gotta do is just, go talk to ‘em, tell ‘em you’re there for ‘em, and that you always will be.” Ford wondered since when Stan was so wise, but then again, he’d had it hard on the streets ever since he was seventeen. Of course he’d be more knowledgeable about these things than him. It made him feel helpless in the worst of ways. With a nod, he shrugged his brother’s hand off his shoulder and turned to go find you, and the first place he’d check was where Stan said you were: your room.

The door was locked.

Why was it locked??

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door, calling your name through it, and he heard a shuffling sound from the other side. Then, nothing.

… Another, more insistent knock, and he heard a groan. Maybe you were sleeping..? But at noon? Worried, he called your name again.

“I’d like to speak with you, if it’s at all convenient. It’s rather urgent,” he said, managing to keep the concern from his voice.

When you opened the door, you were… well, you were a sight. Your binder was off, for one thing, and wearing a t-shirt so oversized that the neck dipped dangerously close to revealing cleavage. The sweatpants you were wearing were stained with food, and your hair was a greasy mess, telling him (along with the musty smell of the room) that you hadn’t showered nor gotten any fresh air in a while. His expression hardened, though he tried to smile.

“Hello, my dear,” he said, hoping the pet name would make you smile. It didn’t. He pressed on, “I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to come with me, today. Go see the ember wolves. They’re quite bigger than you last saw them already!” Your eyes, surrounded by dark circles, looked up at him in an endless stare… a slow blink… then you shook your head, almost like you were coming back into your own mind.

“What? … Oh. Uh, no thanks.” You stepped back and moved to shut the door, but he put his foot in the way, startling you a bit.

“Then perhaps we could go to the diner? Stan said you weren’t at breakfast,” he said, more insistently, and you gave a lazy roll of your shoulders, glancing away from him.

“I’m not really hungry, so…”

His patience was honestly beginning to wear thin, and he let out a little sigh, hoping it didn’t sound as exasperated as he felt. It must have, to some degree, because you tensed up and turned to walk over to the bed, collapsing onto the mattress.

“How about a nice shower? Maintaining personal hygiene always makes me feel better when I’m--”

“I’m fine, Stanford,” you interjected softly, frowning at him for a moment before turning your head into your pillow, your voice coming out muffled. “I’m just tired.” He opened his mouth to retort, but you rolled completely onto your side, your back facing him. “You should go.”

“...Pardon?” he asked, incredulous, and you sighed, sitting up.

“You’ve got important work to do, right? Don’t let me keep you from it.” He couldn’t help it, he huffed out a laugh, causing you to turn and look at him, brow raised, frowning. “I mean it.”

“No, I know you do, which just… makes this all the more ridiculous, honestly. You’re not being logical, my dear--”

“Sorry,” you said cooly, “Not all of us can be logical all the time, like you.”

And that… that hurt. It was the first time you’d ever said anything like that to him, with the obvious intent to insult, and he didn’t know quite how to feel about it.

“...Sorry,” you murmured, then, and sighed, flopping back onto the bed, an arm covering your eyes. “Just… sorry. You should really go, though.” Your words were watery around the edges, bottom lip quivering as you clenched your jaw to try and stop it, and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to pull the arm covering your eyes but receiving resistance. “No. I-I mean it, Stanford, just go--”

“Not until you tell me what’s upset you,” he said firmly, and the little broken groan of frustration nearly killed him; he couldn’t tell if it was towards him or yourself, but something told him it was the latter.

“Nothing, okay?? I just… I just need to sleep. I’m really tired, okay? That’s all--”

“If that’s all, then why haven’t you been eating? Or bathing? Or changing your clothes?” With each bit of evidence he brought to light, you curled around yourself more and more tightly, and by the end you were trembling, back turned to him defiantly, and he sighed. “Please, just… at least take care of yourself? What will I do if I come home and find you a mess?”

“...find someone else, I guess.”

Those five words hit him like a kick to the chest, and he stood up suddenly, angry and all at once very, very sad.

“You’re being unreasonable right now, so I’ll leave you be…. When you want to talk about this like an  _ adult _ , then I’ll be in my lab.” You were eerily still, not even a sniffle or a breath from you, and he heaved a sigh before leaving, closing the door with an odd sense of finality behind him.

-

He didn’t see you that evening, like he had hoped. Nor the evening after that. Nor the one after that. Stanley was even starting to become worried, looking to the empty place setting at the table while Ford stubbornly shoved pancakes into his mouth. He knew he was being stubborn… and he knew it was only doing harm. So why was he doing this?

He wanted you to admit that he was right.. That was the long and short of it.

“So you’re just gonna let your relationship, and your partner, fall apart, huh?”

Stanley’s sudden intrusion in on Ford’s thoughts made him stop mid-bite, fork suspended in the air as he glared at his twin. He slammed it down on the table, bit of pancake and syrup flying across the table cloth, and he sighed.

“They’re being unreasonable.”

“And since when was depression ever ‘reasonable’ Poindexter?” Ford said nothing to that. Stan sighed and picked up his now empty plate, getting up to put it into the sink.

“Look, if you’re not gonna help ‘em, then I will. I ain’t about to watch someone wither away just because you’re feelin’ stubborn.”

“Fine! Do what you want. I’m going to my lab…” The brothers parted ways at the hallway, and Ford watched as Stanley stopped to knock on your bedroom door… and felt something deep in his chest ache. Breathing out a sigh, he stepped past the vending machine and descended.

-

Stan’s POV

This was stupid. Quite literally the dumbest situation he’d ever found himself in. His brother sure was an ignorant man for being a genius. ...But then again, Ford was ignorant about a lot of things, particularly when it came to relationships. He sighed.

And knocked on your bedroom door. “Kid?”

Silence…

Another knock. “Hey, kid, c’mon, wake up!”

Silence…

With a sigh, he tested the knob. It turned. He opened it all the way, letting it swing inward as he stepped inside.

“Oh, kid…” You were a lump under the blankets, unmoving, completely obscured save for your face, which was pale. “Kid?” Still no response. Shit. “Hey, c’mon kid, wake up!” He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, shaking your shoulder. The blankets slid down, and he glanced down… and breathed a sigh of relief. Good, at least you were clothed. He touched your forehead and felt how chill you were, and his frown deepened.

He stood and wrapped you up in the blanket completely, almost swaddling you in it, and picked you up, carrying you into the tv room. He sat on his chair, you curled up in his lap, and pat your face gently, trying to wake you.

When you did finally come to, you had a horrifying second where you didn’t know where you were, who you were with, and he could sympathize.

“Easy kid, it’s me.” You breathed out a sigh and slumped against him, and it wasn’t weird, only because you were his brother’s. If you were anyone else, this would be awkward, but for some reason, it wasn’t. “So. You gonna tell me about it, or should I ask?”

“... Just tired.” He huffed a laugh, devoid of any real humor.

“Yeah, know that feeling well enough. You get older, and suddenly you’re tired all the time. ...And sometimes you’re just tired because your brain’s fightin’ so hard. Am I right?”

You nodded slowly, and he was surprised to see your once-vibrant eyes well with tears. He breathed a sigh and rubbed your arm through the blanket.

“S’alright, kid, get it out.”

And, to your credit, you did. What felt like years and years of tears poured out of you, seemingly endless, wetting his shoulder as it soaked through the layers of blanket and his shirt. You bawled, wailed, and he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be here for this, but damn it, he wasn’t going to let you suffer with it alone. Not when his brother was being such a knucklehead.

By the time your wails had subsided to sniffles, you looked about as dehydrated as he’d expect you to be. He grabbed the half-finished Pitt on the little table by his chair and handed it to you, and you drained it in a second, uncaring of the fact it was someone else’s first.

“...Now,” he started, gently, “You gonna tell me what’s the matter?” You tensed, and he rubbed your shoulder gently, patting your back, and you sighed.

“I just… I get this way at times. I’ve...run out of the medication I brought with me to Gravity Falls…” The mere mention of medication was a surprise to him. He’d never known you took any, or that you needed it. He grew up in an era of ‘tough it out’, but now was different. And, he realized, you were only so good because you had the meds in the first place. So he didn’t judge, instead he rubbed your back as you hiccupped and continued. “A-and… my family has been trying to call me, and Ford, he…” You wiped your nose with the edge of the blanket, and he had the grace to pretend he didn’t notice it. “He said that if I wanted to discuss my depression like an  _ adult _ that I knew where to find him, and--”

Stan groaned, “That idiot… Honestly, for someone so smart, he sure is stupid.” The little huff of amusement you give counts as a victory in Stan’s mind, and he gestures wildly with the hand not wrapped around your shoulders. “I mean seriously. All those doctorates must’ve made him forget what it’s really like for people.”

“I-I don’t think so, he just… was worried…”

“Well hell yeah he was, kid. Shit, I’ve been worried, too. You ain’t yourself.” You gave an apologetic look, and he waved it off. “Hey, meds are serious business. So we gotta get you some more, and then you’ll be golden, right? We can do that before we leave for the ocean.” The small questioning sound you made in the back of your throat, between sniffles, made him pause, and he glanced down at you. “...Sixer  _ has _ asked if you’re comin’ with us, right?” You shook your head, and he heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head and staring off at the doorway with a pointed frown. “That jackass…”

“...M-maybe he just didn’t want me to--”

“Nah, kid, trust me. He wants you to go. He’ll be all mopey and useless if you  _ don’t  _ go.”

“Ha. I doubt that highly…”

-

Ford’s POV

How was he supposed to focus like this?

He sat at his desk, head in his hands, fingers raking through his thick grey hair, and he sighed. He couldn’t, not when you were obviously in distress and not telling him what was wrong. Maybe he had used the wrong approach… He needed answers, and what better way than to just… ask you until you told him? Was that what he was supposed to do?

...No, Stanley had said that he needed to show he cared, and that he would be there for you.

It’s with that thought that he ascends the stairs, two at a time, and opens the secret door with a push of a button on his watch.

He wasn’t expecting the noises that met his ears when the door opened.

You, wailing, sounding almost as though you were in physical pain. He quickened his pace, closing the door behind him as an afterthought, and went to your room to find it empty. A small bit of panic set in, and he followed the noise until he found you in the tv room.

You… wrapped up like a child in Stan’s arms. He felt his heart tug painfully, watching as he soothed you in his place. Stanley glanced up and, seeing him, frowned, motioning with his head to come closer, but he.. He couldn’t. 

He moved to hide behind the corner, not wanting to see, but to listen. The way Stan’s massive hands rubbed along your back and shoulder quieted your cries to sniffles, and then you two were talking.

“...Now, you gonna tell me what’s the matter?”

“I just… I get this way at times. I’ve...run out of the medication I brought with me to Gravity Falls…” Ford remembered then, seeing a pill box, little bottles, but never thinking to ask about it. It was rude, he figured, and you never brought it up, so he never thought to ask. “A-and… my family has been trying to call me, and Ford, he… He said that if I wanted to discuss my depression like an  _ adult _ that I knew where to find him, and--”

Stan groaned, and Ford felt himself wince, “That idiot… Honestly, for someone so smart, he sure is stupid.” Okay, so it’s fair to say that, at this point, Ford felt a bit more like an asshole than he thought he would… “I mean seriously. All those doctorates must’ve made him forget what it’s really like for people.” Okay, make that a lot more.

“I-I don’t think so, he just… was worried…” you’d defended, and… you were right, but he still went about this the wrong way. Obviously. You were curled up in another man’s arms while he was standing out hiding in the hallway.

“Well hell yeah he was, kid. Shit, I’ve been worried, too. You ain’t yourself. Hey, meds are serious business. So we gotta get you some more, and then you’ll be golden, right? We can do that before we leave for the ocean.” There’s a bit of silence, and Ford felt his gut roll as he realized... “...Sixer  _ has _ asked if you’re comin’ with us, right?” He knew you were going to shake your head, and the heavy sigh Stanley gave him was mirrored by himself, quiet enough that no one would know he was out in the hallway. He did manage to take a peek into the room and caught Stan staring right at him, an annoyed look on his face. “That jackass…”

You frowned up at Stan, not even noticing he was there, what with your back turned to him. “...M-maybe he just didn’t want me to--”

“Nah, kid, trust me. He wants you to go. He’ll be all mopey and useless if you  _ don’t  _ go.”

“Ha. I doubt that highly…”

Stanley’s face screamed ‘fix it’, and Stanford felt himself wanting to move, but too afraid to. He’d already gone and fudged things up this badly… was there even any point to saving it?

...Yes. Actually, there was. Because even though he was a genius, and even though he was a jackass, and even though he was both in the same breath, he’d done wrong with you, and he wanted to make up for it.

Stan must have sensed that from Ford’s face, because he stood up, setting you in his chair and re-covering you with the blankets before cracking his back painfully.

“Agh! … Alright, I’m gonna get you some water, kid. You just relax for now.” Stan’s eyes flickered over to where Ford stood, giving a subtle thumbs up before leaving from the room.

Leaving you alone.

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes with your hands, rubbing far too hard, from the looks of it, and he took quick and light steps into the room so he could gently pull them away.

“...You’ll hurt your eyes doing that,” he mumbled, and you dropped your hands, looking up at him in surprise.

“Ford..?” He smiled, but that smile faded when you blocked off your expression, glancing away from him.

“Hey…” He tucked a hand under your chin, and you  _ shivered _ , allowing him to tilt your face up to his so he could see you. “I’m… not the best, when it comes to relationships… I know that. I thought you knew, too. There are going to be times where I mess things up. And--”

“I-I know…” You say, sniffing and wiping your nose. “I was just being unreasonable--” The word was thrown back at him, even though all you did was say it normally, like you believed it… “--and not talking… and, I’m … I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he parroted, unbelieving, and when you tried to turn your face away again, tears coming to your eyes, he cupped your cheeks in both hands, rubbing his thumbs along the dark circles under your eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who was… an insensitive jerk. You shouldn’t apologize for things you can’t help.” The tears ran over his thumbs, and he tried to wipe them away, but there were too many. Fearing he’d said something wrong, he stumbled over his words, trying to make amends, but you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, silencing him.

“You.. You have very important work, you and Stan both do. So…” Your bottom lip quivered, but you bit the inside of your cheek to still it, the pain making things more clear. “So I understand, why you haven’t asked me… and it’s okay. I can wait for your return here.”

...And he tried to think of that. Of you, being all alone, save for Soos and sometimes Wendy coming along. No one to take you away when things got too overwhelming. No Stan to comfort you when Ford messed up and upset you, no Ford to love you. And he just couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone for the rest of the year until summer arrived. Even if you stayed with Fiddleford McGucket, you’d still be all alone…

“...Truthfully, I hadn’t asked you yet because… well, I was afraid you would say no. Gravity Falls is your home, and I didn’t want to take you away from that, when you’d only just found it.” You’re quiet for a long time, looking up at him with a surprised expression which slowly melted into one of fondness.

“You dummy.” He opened his mouth to retort, but found himself silenced as you placed your hand over his heart on his sweater, fingers curling lightly into the fabric. “You are my home.”

And all at once, he understood everything. The look of awe on his face must have embarrassed you, because you quickly withdrew your hand, stuttering.

“Th-that is, I mean, if...you’re okay with that. Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“My family is my home,” he said quietly, then, giving a small, awkward smile, he chuckled. “And… well, my dear, you’re my family too.” Your eyes shone brightly as new, fresh tears welled up in them and spilled over, and he frantically tried to wipe them away, but you stopped him, grabbing his hands and pulling him down so that your foreheads pressed together.

“Good. I’m.. I’m really glad…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, if you liked this chapter, let me know! Leave a comment telling me I'm doing a good job! I'm writing for me, but I also wanna know what you all think. :heart:
> 
> And, as usual, come bug me on Tumblr! (life-sans-sin.tumblr.com) I'll write drabble ideas you guys give me for Stan/Reader or Ford/Reader, then post them here! (Or leave them in the comments here, that works, too)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Personal questions, a phone call, and a trip back home.

Apparently, getting a prescription changed from one doctor to another was going to be difficult. Especially because they wanted you to see a therapist and psychiatrist before you could get them… which meant at least a few weeks. And the Stan-O-War II was due to take off anytime. Sure, they controlled when it took off, but if they were to continue as scheduled, then they needed it to happen soon.

This, of course, they never brought up around you… but rather, in private.

“-- and I heard ‘em scream at the phone earlier. It was after they hung up, but still. This whole mess is frustratin’ em,” Stan grumbled, and Ford recalled that very incident. You’d thrown your phone onto the bed with a shout of a curse and buried your face in the pillows to scream… It was not pleasant.

“Yes, I know… But we are at the mercy of these doctors, unfortunately. The easiest thing to do would be to go to the Midwest, but… I don’t know how they feel about that.”

“It’s not happening.” Your voice suddenly came from the kitchen doorway and Ford winced slightly at having gotten caught talking about you behind your back… again. “And really guys, I’d appreciate you talking about it to my face. I’m not some child who needs to be spoken for--”

“Nah, kid, it ain’t that. We just don’t wanna upset ya, that’s all.” Your eyes narrowed at him, and you huffed a sigh, defeated.

“Yeah… I know. I’m sorry about all of this,” you say, so sincerely, and Stan reaches over and paps you on top of the head.

“Hey, enough ‘a that crap. Not your fault, is it?” You open your mouth to retort, but the look both men give you, you shut it again, looking sheepish.

Your phone rang again, and you heaved a sigh, pulling it from your back pocket. You froze when you saw who it was, and Ford circled around with a questioning sound. The word “Mom” was flashing on the screen, the little green phone icon waiting to be dragged to one side to answer it. You bit your lip and slid the icon, raising the phone to your ear.

“...Hello?”

Ford could hear a voice, obviously feminine, coming from the other line, and you actually pulled the phone away from your ear a bit, frowning.

“I know, I’m sorry I haven’t answered… I’ve been busy working--” Your mother must have cut you off again, because you fell silent again, and your shoulders rolled forward, curling in on yourself. “I-I know. I was just trying to get my prescription switched to up here.”

“Where is ‘up here’?” Ford heard the question clear as day, and he glanced to Stanley, who was digging through the fridge for a beer.

“... Oregon. Gravity Falls. But, I’m gonna be leaving again, soon-- … … No. … No. … I’m not alone! I’ve been living with a family, and they--” You were getting sick of being cut off, Ford thought, if the way you grit your teeth had anything to say about it. “... I know them, yes. … No, I didn’t know them before I got here, but they’ve been very kind to me, and-- … No! They aren’t running some human trafficking ring!!” Stan snorted at that, and Ford shushed him.

“Who was that??”

“Er… That was two of the family members. Stan and Ford.”

“You mean to tell me you’re living with two men??”

“Yes, and they’ve been perfect gentlemen--”

“Are you sleeping with them?”

“Wha-- no! … A-and even if I was, I’m an adult, and I can--”

Ford felt his face flush and cast you an apologetic look, wishing he could take you away from this situation, but knowing it would only make things worse. It wasn’t until he heard your mother on the phone say an unfamiliar name to you and your entire body tensed that he felt like he might actually take the phone from you.

“Come home. You’re obviously manic and are going through something crisis-like without your meds. You need to come home now.”

“I’m not coming home. And I’m perfectly fine, actually. Also, that isn’t my name, and you know it.” He hears the unfamiliar name one more time before you clear your throat loudly, demanding attention. “Anyway, if that’s all, then I’m going to hang up now. I’ll talk to you again in a few weeks or something.”

“Now you just--”

You hung up the phone then, sliding it silently into your back pocket and giving the two men in the room a sheepish look.

“Heh… women, am I right?” Stan snorted, which Ford cast him a scathing glance for.

Turning to you more fully, he put a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright..? Surely you don’t believe what she said--”

“I don’t,” you said with a sureness that made him feel a bit better about the whole situation. “But I do need my meds, so… I guess I’m gonna have to just… bite the bullet, so to speak.”

“Well… I’m sure that there are cryptids and anomalies in the midwest worth looking into.”

You shook your head, “No, if I’m gonna go back, then I don’t want you two having to drag everything to go with me…”

“So how about this…” Stan piped up, draining the rest of his beer and tossing it toward the trash can. It rolled around the rim and fell out, and he cursed, pushing himself off the counter to walk toward it. “You two take the Stanmobile and go get that all taken care of. I’ll stay here and get Fiddleford to help me get the Stan-O-War II taken care of. Then, when you two come back, we set out on the open sea. … Sound fair?”

“I really don’t think that you going back will do any good. Maybe we can--” Ford began, but you cut him off.

“No. I need… I need to settle things there. There are things I need to say and do there that have nothing to do with my meds, and…” You gave him a weak smile. “I’d love having someone I trust there to back me up, if need be.”

He grasped your hand, and you interlock your fingers together, your five between his six, and Stan smiled fondly at the sight.

“Then that settles it. We’ll leave for the midwest tomorrow morning. ...Best to prepare yourself.” He gave your hand a squeeze.

“Yeah… prepare…”

-

The drive itself wasn’t really so bad, honestly. Stanley didn’t want you driving (said that a non-Stan couldn’t drive it, it wouldn’t work), so you sat in the front seat and kept Ford company as he drove. The radio was messed with a lot, and then you pulled out your phone and started playing music on there, instead.

By the time you made it to Keystone City, you were fidgeting, dropping your phone every few minutes and tapping your foot so hard that your leg was bouncing.

“... Are you sure you want to do this? We can turn back--”

“No.” The tapping stopped, and your fingers stilled on your phone. “I want to do this. Gotta get this over with… Just another three hours before we hit Ground Zero.”

He rather liked that name for it, the fact you didn’t call it home so much more appealing. Sure, he wished you had a better birthplace experience, but he wasn’t going to complain about you preferring to call him home over your actual birth home.

Once the signs began to read ‘Inside Capitol City Limits’, the radio had been turned off, and you started talking about a plan.

“Okay, I’ll give you all the directions you need, just… We’re gonna go to my doctor’s office, hit that up, then get my prescriptions transferred to-” you paused, then looked at him with a look that was dreadful. “Wait, how are we going to do this if we’re going all over the world??” He smiled warmly at you, laying the hand not on the steering wheel onto your knee.

“You let me deal with that. I have 12 PhD’s, surely that will be enough for me to be able to convince them to give you your prescriptions.” You didn’t look convinced, so he rubbed small circles on the skin of your knee. “Hey, listen to me. This is going to be fine.”

“Fine, yeah… yeah, you’re probably right.”

  
  


He was wrong.

  
  


“Listen, Mr. Pines--”

“Dr. Pines, please.”

“Right. Dr. Pines, you aren’t Miss--”

“They prefer not to be referred to that way,” he said, his polite smile tight on his lips, and the person behind the front desk backed away a bit in their chair.

“Okay, well, you aren’t their doctor, so I can’t do anything about giving you their prescriptions. You’ll have to make an appointment and talk to her-- their doctor about it. I can try and schedule you in for something?” Ford let out a slow breath through his nostrils and glanced over at you, picking at the skin on your lips and around your fingernails. Frowning, he looked back to the person behind the safety of the desk.

“And how long will that take?” The receptionist typed away at their keyboard for several minutes, a few clicks, and--

“I have something opening up for new patients in six months--”

“Six months?? That’s ridiculous! They’re an existing patient, and--”

“Yes, but they no-showed to so many appointments that now they’re considered a new patient.”

Ford was flabberghasted. The way these people ran things was just… asinine! Stupid! Completely and utterly hopeless for anyone trying to actually get help in a timely manner.

“They need their medications, though. Isn’t there any sort of protocol for getting them in an emergency situation?”

“Well, they could always be checked into an in-patient facility--” You grasped at Ford’s arm, a deathly terror in your eyes, and he quickly shook his head.

“No, that isn’t necessary. ...What say we wait for an opening? Will that do?” The person behind the desk hummed, then tapped their co-worker behind them on the shoulder and whispered something to her. She shrugged her shoulders, and the receptionist turned back to look at Ford.

“You can do that. But there are no promises that it’ll be today. Or even tomorrow--”

“We’ll wait however long it takes,” he assured them, taking your hand and leading you over to the television. Something a little mindless to take your mind off of things. When he glanced up at you, you were brimming with frustrated tears, and he jumped toward you, hand on your cheek. “Hey, i-it’s okay, don’t worry--” His hushed voice was interrupted by an equally hushed voice from you, though it held much more frustration than his did.

“Don’t worry? Don’t worry?? Ughh this is such a waste of time… This place was always stupid, I hate it, I hate being here…” He took your hand again when you turned away from him, broad thumb stroking your knuckles.

“I know, I know… But it’s going to be okay. We’ll wait however long it takes until you get an appointment.”

“But you shouldn’t  _ have _ to. You’re wasting your time all because of--” He squeezed your hand hard enough that you turned to look at him, his eyes set into a determined stare.

“This is not a waste of time, my dear. Just… think of this discomfort and unpleasantness as the prerequisite to getting out at sea, with me and Stan.” You gave his hand a squeeze back, a small hum leaving you.

“Yeah… Being with you and Stan will be nice. Far, far away from this place…”

“Pines?”

Ford looked up and saw a familiar face, vaguely, though his mind was having difficulty putting a name to it. The woman smiled at him, and gestured for him to follow her.

“Please come with me.”

She led the two of you past the receptionist, who looked slightly put-out that you’d be seen so quickly, past the waiting room full of people, and into a small, clinical office. Ford sat on one of the chairs opposite the psychiatrist, while you sat next to him, holding onto his hand with a death grip.

“I thought I had recognized you, Dr. Pines, but I never knew I would see you in such a place as this!” The woman spoke with a thick accent, and Ford frowned thoughtfully, scrutinizing the woman’s face. She laughed kindly, “I am Dr. Kamara Yousef.” Realization hit him like a truck, and he smiled.

“Dr. Yousef! It is good to see you. I haven’t seen you since… heck, since college! You graduated a few years before me.”

She chuckled, “Only because I only went for one PhD. Not all of us are such overachievers, Dr. Pines.”

“Yes, well--”

“So tell me, what is it that brings you here today with my patient?” Her eyes flit down to where your two hands were connected, and Ford felt the slightest warmth touch his cheeks.

“Yes, well, you see, we are going to be travelling the world, and I-- er, we, were wondering if we could have their prescriptions changed to a different location. Perhaps make it to where they can get their medicine from anywhere in the US, instead of from one single pharmacy.” The Doctor hummed to herself at that in thought, then smiled.

“I am not sure, but I will see what I can do.” Then, turning to you, her face turned more serious. “Are you out of medication now?”

You nodded, looking ashamed, and she hummed again.

“I see. Yes, very bad, indeed. I will get you an emergency supply. It should only last a week, but that will be enough time for me to see what I can do for you. ...But since you are here, I would like to do an overall runthrough, make sure you are doing well. How have you been feeling since you left?”

You are quiet for a long time, then, unexpectedly, you smile. “I’ve been feeling...great. Even with the lack of meds, it’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be without them, when I was here.” Dr. Yousef hummed softly. “A-and I’ve been doing a lot more, getting out more… Every day is...well, an adventure.” Your eyes met his for a moment, and both of you blushed, looking away. The doctor laughed and shook her head.

“Yes, I can see that.”

  
  


The rest of the appointment went well, with some very, very personal questions that Ford made sure not to say anything about, though he couldn’t help but wonder…

  
  


“...And any chance you might be pregnant?” You both whip around to look at her, and she chuckles. “I just have to ask all my sexually active couples that. So?”

“H-how do you-- I mean, we aren’t--” Ford fumbles slightly, feeling his face grow warm, but you sigh and squeeze his hand, turning to the doctor with a polite smile.

“No, no chance.”

“Hm… I will take your word for it this time, since I know you hate having to take the tests. ..And because Dr. Pines is here, I am sure he would be the first to know if you were.”

  
  


You’re ushered out of her office with a business card in hand, and Ford barely has time to say ‘thank you’ before you’re back out in the waiting room. The silence stretches on between the two of you as you walk to the car, and, once Ford’s hand rests on the handle, he hears you speak up.

“So, old girlfriend of yours?” He coughed and shook his head.

“No, not at all. We were both far too busy with our studies. She was just an acquaintance of mine, nothing more.”

“Ah, okay, sorry. I just figured, y’know, since you two have history--”

“My dear, we  _ had _ history… as in, the class. That’s about the extent of our ‘history’, since we took completely different directions after gen ed.” You both got into the car and he sat, looking over at you. The skin on your lip was bleeding, and as you raised your hand to pick at it again, he stopped you with a gentle hand on yours. “Is everything… Well, I know not everything is grand, right now, but… Is there something I can do?”

“...No,” you finally mutter, and he feels himself frowning, but you raise his hand and press a kiss to the knuckle of his sixth finger, smiling against it. “Just being here is enough.”

-

The city you found yourselves in was significantly larger than Gravity Falls, so when lunchtime rolled around, you had more options than usual to choose from. Ford expressed to you that money was no option, and that anywhere you wanted to eat, you could. You, of course, looked a little guilty as you thought it over.

“Then… can we go to one of my favorite places…? I’d like to be able to show it to you, though I don’t know how much you’ll enjoy it. It is a pub.”

He gave a smile and gestured to the road ahead, “Show me the way, my dear.” It got you to smile, and even if going to a drinking establishment wasn’t exactly on his list of things he wanted desperately to do, making you happy was.

Ford drove (under the care of your guidance and instructions) until you were on High Street, and a little brick building with an obviously later built-on addition of a back patio sat just off the road. It was busy, packed, one might even say, and you deflated a bit.

“Hey, maybe it just looks busy from the outside?” he suggested, looking over to the patio with a small smile. “It looks like there are tables open outside.” You nodded, taking his hand in yours and pulling him from the small parking area and up the sidewalk to the pub itself. The wooden sign on the front said “MacCarthy’s” in a very celtic-looking font, and as you opened the red front door, a gust of warmth came from within.

There were people standing around the bar, which was in the front room, crowding around to try and get a drink. Once the door opened, everyone behind the bar turned to you and gave a hoot of “Greetings!” followed by a beaming smile. A young woman smiled up at Ford, then at you, and she picked up a piece of pink chalk before turning back to you.

“Here to drink or for food?”

“Food, please,” you said, pulling your hood up a bit to try and cover your face. She just shrugged and turned to Ford, her smile widening.

“Name?”

“Uh… Pines.” She wrote ‘Pines’ up on the board with a small squeak of chalk on board, and you winced, covering your ears until she was done. “Thank you, miss.” She turned and waved off the thanks.

“It’s nothing. It’ll probably be ten minutes before I can get you seated, okay?” Instead of waiting for an answer, she just made her way back through the dense crowd. So dense, in fact, that you find yourselves pressed together so closely that you’re almost touching. Ford’s broad shoulders bump into the people moving on either side of him, and he mutters apologies until someone from behind you bumps you into his chest, then he falls quiet.

The feel of your pulse against his chest is comforting amidst this room of chaos, people drinking and being merry, and he can’t help but wonder if he’d ever thought he’d find himself in this situation.

The answer, of course, is no. Had someone told him in college that he’d be with someone who he loved very much, standing cramped together in a pub full of people, then he’d have laughed in their face.

But really, it’s inconvenient, the way you’re pressed up against him, his arms coming up to rest his hands on your waist, thumbs brushing against the newly exposed skin of your middle when you reach your arms up to wrap around his neck. It’s inconvenient because you’re in a room full of people, and the only thing he wants to do is kiss you.

The moment is broken when the girl from before returns, and you’re quick to lower your arms from around his neck, but he doesn’t stop the slow, gentle motions of his thumbs against your sides.

“Your table is ready, so c’mon this way!”

Ford didn’t get a chance to ask for an outside table, despite the coolness outside. You both had jackets or hoodies or sweaters on, so it would’ve been fine, but still, the two of you allow her to lead you back to your table. Ford glances around, looking at all of the decor. The family crests on flags and banners all over the walls, the Ireland flag, the painted mural of Ireland on the ceiling.

  
He was so caught up in that, that he hadn’t noticed you’d stopped walking, and his chest bumped into your back, sending you stumbling forward a step. You immediately pressed back against him, almost as though you were trying to walk backwards instead of towards your table.

Then, a voice he recognized said a name he didn’t, and when he looked up, there was a woman, probably about ten to twelve years younger than Ford himself, glaring at you.

“Oh shit,” you mutter, trying again to walk back, but your body seems to be frozen.

Oh shit indeed. Because if he were to put the pieces together, this was your mother, and your mother just so happened to be at the restaurant you had chosen… The fates seemed against you, and Ford wished he had just asked about one of the empty tables out on the patio.

The girl working for the pub, totally oblivious, smiled at the two of you. “Oh, so I take it you’ll wanna sit here with them?”

“No--”

“Yes,” your mother said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That would be lovely. I haven’t seen my daughter in such a long time.” You flinched bodily, and he put a hand on your shoulder. Your mother eyed that hand until, after a long moment, you shrugged it off, muttering that you were fine. The two of you were put at a table full of people, all of varying ages. Everyone introduces themselves-- two children, about Dipper and Mabel’s age when they first came to Gravity Falls, stare at his six fingered hands enough that he hides them behind his back. A bald man who you could only assume is your father shares a look with you, yours of exasperation and his of ‘hey, you got yourself into this mess’, and you sigh.

“Ford, this is my family. My mom, dad, brother and sister… My oldest younger brother isn’t here, but he lives in a different city, so…” Ford leaned over the table and held a hand out to your father, who shook it strongly.

“Hello, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance!” he said politely, but from the way your father kept glancing to his left, to your mother, told Ford that he wasn’t the one he needed to worry about…

“So how old are you, exactly?” she asked as the two of you sat down, and you bit back a groan of frustration.

“Does it really matter--”

“I just turned sixty in June.” You turn to look at him with a light glare, and he worries if perhaps he’d done the wrong thing, because the way your mother laughs is anything but amused.

“Oh. Wow. So you couldn’t find anyone closer to your age to date, huh?”

He cleared his throat, “I was… always too busy with my studies and my research in order to date.”

“So if you’re not dating, then what are you? Friends with bene--”

“Hey, the kids??” you gesture to your siblings with an incredulous look on your face, your face which looks torn between being pale and flushed. You’re not looking very good.

Your siblings, to their credit, ignore the conversation for the most part. Instead, they launch into their own set of questions with you.

“So he has twelve fingers??” your sister asks, and you nod. “That’s pretty weird, right? But I bet it’s cool, too.”

“Yeah, I… I think it’s really neat,” you say with a soft smile he can’t help but notice, even as he’s being bombarded by questions from your parents.

“So you live in some place called Gravity Falls? But my daughter--” and he tried really, really hard not to say anything to that, “--said that you’d be moving again, soon? What’s that about?”

“Well,” Ford began, fingers tapping on his leg nervously. “My brother Stanley and I have a boat that we use to sail around the world, in order to further my research. I was-- I mean, we were planning on taking them with us.”

“So, you’re going to have two grown, older men, on a boat with my daughter, alone… and you think this is a  _ good _ idea?” He clenches his jaw slightly, fingers curling into fists on his lap.

“With all due respect, ma’am, we have nothing but the best of intentions with your child… And my brother Stanley has no intentions whatsoever.”

“Which reminds me. What are you two, exactly? Do you plan to marry her? What happens when you slip up and she ends up pregnant--”

“ _ They _ … They aren’t going to have anything happen unless they want it to.” He was pretty good at keeping his composure, but hearing your own mother refer to you the way she was… it was pushing his buttons, so to speak, and he wasn’t having it. Your mother narrowed her eyes slightly, and, after your father whispered in her ear, she seemed to back off a little, un-squaring her shoulders and taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m so not hungry anymore…” you mumble, sounding defeated, and he moves one of the hands from his leg to rest it on your knee. You give him the tiniest of hesitant smiles… which disappears as soon as your mother clears her throat.

“We ordered too much, so you’re free to just eat with us. I insist.” Her tone made it obvious that there was no room for argument, and Ford nodded, rubbing circles on your kneecap as you rolled your eyes at her.

Truthfully, he wasn’t feeling very hungry, either, after all the stress they’d just been put under… And he knew there was nothing they could do to keep them there. If you got up to leave, he would, without a doubt, make sure you got out without another word being said to you.

But you hadn’t gotten up, hadn’t made a move to leave… so he stayed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spendin' some time with the 'rents.

The food was brought out, and as delicious as it smelled and looked, Ford just couldn’t bring himself to eat more than a few bites of everything. The nerves were getting to him, because he realized  _ this was his first time meeting his significant other’s family. _ Something that every dating couple had to deal with in their lives. And it was going… piss poor, if he were to be honest.

He was almost certain he was going to bite his tongue in half in order to try and keep quiet about them referring to you as a woman when, clearly, that wasn’t who you were. There had been several times where he’d nearly spoken up, opening his mouth to say something, but your hand on his leg stopped him, as did the pained smile on your face.

“Here’s your check… I’m guessing it’s all together?” the girl from before was back, smiling curiously at all of the adults at the table. Ford moved for his wallet, hoping that maybe if he paid then that would get rid of some of the supposed bad blood, but your mother was quicker. While he fumbled, she pulled her card out of her wallet/phone case and handed it to the girl, a smile on her lips.

“I got it, just put it all on here.”

“I can… It’s really no trouble, and I feel bad for interrupting your family meal--”

“I don’t want your money,” she said simply, and he glanced over at you as you rolled your eyes and groaned quietly.

With dinner paid for, your group moved outside to the cars. Of course it just so happened you were parked right next to one another. You muttered how stupid you felt for not noticing sooner and he put a hand on your shoulder.

“Woah, nice car!” your sister piped up, hands hovering over the crisp red paint job. Stanley had done quite a job of getting it all fixed up and restored, Ford couldn’t help but grin in pride at his brother’s achievement.

“Thank you. It’s my brother Stanley’s. He calls it the ‘Stan-mobile.’”

“So wait, he named a car after himself??” the preteen girl snorted and hunched her shoulders as she held back a laugh. “That’s pretty cool.”

And Ford decided he rather appreciated your siblings, because even though they still referred to you as ‘sissy’ or that name that wasn’t yours, they seemed to be easily accepting of you and him, and that’s something he couldn’t help but appreciate.

“Going through a midlife crisis or something?” your mother quipped, and oh, how Stanford wanted to just tell this woman whatfor, but the way you clung to his hand made him stay silent. That silence stretched on, and your father cleared his throat awkwardly as Ford and your mother stared each other down.

You clapped your hands together, “Okay, well, this has been fun. I’m gonna go now. Ford?”

“Oh, you only just got here. Besides, where were you planning on staying? Some motel?” your mother asked, and Ford felt himself balk slightly at the implications.

“Actually,” he said, clearing his throat, “We were going to be staying at the Capitol City Hotel.” You whirled your head around at that, and he felt his face flush. “Two beds, of course.” He tries to tell himself he imagined the disappointment in your face at that, but he just ends up ignoring you in favor of your mother, who is frowning at him.

“... Fine. But at least come by the house.”

“Maybe we can bust out the old baby pictures,” your father piped up, and you groaned.

“Noooo dad, please…”

Ford chuckled awkwardly at that, hands going behind his back. “Well now, I wouldn’t say that I mind that idea very much…” The dejected look you shoot him makes him want to kiss you, but he’s definitely not doing that with your parents around. “...but if they would rather we not, then--”

“Oh, nonsense. It’s a parent’s job to embarrass their children.” Everyone piled into your mom’s car and she rolled down the window, giving you two a pointed look. “I expect to see you at home, alright?” You say nothing, and she calls that name again, making your shoulders hitch up slightly, and you nod. Seemingly placated by that, your mother smiling slightly as she backs out of her parking space and pulls out onto the main road.

“...” You’re unusually quiet, the look on your face torn between being frustrated and being defeated, and he lets out a short sigh, reaching over to smooth his hand over your hair. That finally seems to break you out of whatever reverie you’re in, because you sigh sharply out your nose, turning and hugging around his midsection, face pressed to his chest. “Sorry…” you mumble, muffled by his sweater, and he lays his hands gently on your shoulders. “I know you were getting kind of mad… but, saying anything won’t do much but cause a fight, so…”

“I’m aware. That’s why I haven’t said anything, outside of making sure I refer to you the way you are and not the way they want you to be.” He thinks he hears you sniffle, but suddenly you pull away from him, patting your cheeks and taking in a deep breath.

“Okay… Okay. We just gotta survive one home visit, then we can just… go wherever the hell we want. Right?” You turn to him, looking fine externally, but there’s uncertainty in your eyes, and he’s quick to reach over and snag your hand in his, nodding. You smile, and even if it isn’t much, even if the next few hours are going to be agonizing, your eyes light up for him, and, honestly, that’s about all he could ask for.

-

You knew the way to your parents house like the back of your hand, obviously, even after being away for however long, because no sooner had you both gotten into Stan’s car had you started telling him which way was the fastest to get to your parents house.

It rested at the bottom of a hill, on the left side, a modest-looking house that was a vast improvement to the Shack where you’d been staying all summer. Far better than some boat out in the middle of the ocean… at least, that’s what Ford’s train of thought was as he pulled into the driveway, where two cars sat.

“One for my mom and the other’s my dad’s,” you verified when he gave you a questioning look, because, honestly, he wasn’t really up to any extra company. And, judging by the look on your face, neither were you.

You just walked right on it, like you’d been living there all along, and he hung awkwardly by the front door as you slid your shoes off, waiting for him to do the same.

“Is it okay to just--”

“Yeah. She prefers it this way. C’mon.”

Shoes off, he followed you up the stairs from the split-foyer and into what appeared to be an open concept kitchen/dining/living room. The sectional looked warm and inviting, covered in pillows and blankets, and your father had apparently already gotten comfortable in one corner, feet tucked under him. When he saw the two of you had come in, he smiled.

“They’re here!” he called, announcing your presence, and patted on the couch next to him. “C’mon, Ford, take a seat. We’ll watch a few baby videos while she and her mother talk.”

Separating them already, eh? Ford wanted to protest, but you took his hand in yours, giving it a small squeeze that drew his attention. “I’ll be okay, go ahead and let Dad embarrass me.”

You walked away down the hall, and, given no other alternatives, he sat a few feet away from your father. The man picked up a remote from the end table and pressed play, or what Ford assumed was ‘play’ because the screen in front of them soon came to life, what was obviously a little you the center focus.

“She always was a bit of a tomboy,” your father said carefully, watching as you played in the mud and wrestled with the other kids. He laughed, “And stubborn.”

Ford couldn’t help but smile at that, “Don’t I know it…”

“Yeah, she’s stubborn, but don’t let that fool ya. Once you’re in her inner circle, she’ll do just about anything for you.” The bald man turned and pushed his glasses up his nose a bit, fixing Ford with a scrutinizing look. “And, from the way she acts, you’re most definitely in her inner circle…”

The silence stretched on for a while, and the scene changed, you, wearing nothing but a diaper and a jean jacket, waddling around with a toy gun. You stuck the gun into your diaper like it was a holster and Ford and your father shared a chuckle. It was… strange, seeing you in such a different light. If anything, though, it only made him appreciate who you were now so much more.

“I don’t know why she left… Her mother’s been trying to contact her the whole summer. I tend to not stick my nose in that sort of business. Afterall, I’m not her birth father-- I’m her step-father.” Ford blinked in surprise at this, and the man snorted. “C’mon, I look nothing like her. My big ol’ nose, red-head, blue eyes… You’d think a smart guy like you would’ve caught on.” Ford frowned slightly, opening his mouth to retort, but a heavy hand slapped onto his shoulder, your father laughing. “Hey, I’m joking! But, I do mean it when I say that… well, we aren’t sure why she left.”

The two men sit and watch the video a bit longer. Now, you’re older, maybe about four or five, and a man that most definitely isn’t the one sitting next to him is asking how long they’re gonna record. Your mother’s voice gives a sigh, and says something about ‘not long, just smile’. The man does, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and he sees so much of you in him that it’s scary.

He wonders who he’s most like, his mother or his father.

“I never was around to see this part of her life… Almost makes me wish I’d met her sooner.”

And that was a sentiment that Ford could relate to, to some extent. And Ford knows he said he wouldn’t say anything, but damn it all, he wants to try and fix this somehow. Wants you to have a family that supports you.

“...Have you ever considered that, perhaps, the reason they left is because you aren’t… being accepting of who they are?” he asks, and the silence he gets in return is unnerving. He chances a glance over and sees that the man’s hands are tight fists resting on his knees, his smile tight across his lips. His eyes, though… they’re sharp blue-grey things, staring at him from the corner of his eye. It’s enough to almost send a chill through him.

“We did the best we could to raise her to be an upstanding adult--”

“And honestly, you did,” Ford says with a small frown. “They’re incredibly kind, and compassionate, and empathetic, and selfless, and--” He realizes he’s rambling, so he cuts himself off, giving a small shake of his head. “At any rate, you’re too busy focusing on what used to be instead of what is.”

“It’s just a phase. The thing used to be bein’ aseuxal, now it’s being… what is it? Nonbinary?” He shakes his head, and Ford feels his own six fingers curl into a fist. “Everyone knows there are only two genders: male and female.”

“But that isn’t true at all! Human sexuality, including gender and biological sex itself, is a much grander thing than some piddly binary that society has decided to stick to for the last however many decades.”

“I thought you said you were a scientist--”

“I am. And I’ve studied this at great length and can say, with certainty, that your child is not going through some phase. ...And that, even if they do decide to change their labels later, then that’s only between them and whatever they believe as the ruling force in this universe.”

“Agh, it goes over my head… Are you trying to tell me that referring to them as ‘they’ or whatever is all it’s gonna take for them to stay?”

Ford felt his stomach drop slightly, and he shook his head. “No. I don’t think they would stay, even if you did… but it would make them happier. And they might call more. I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have their family to turn to when they need it, and to tell all the adventures we’ll be having out on the open seas.”

Your father had a sad smile on his face, and he sighed. “I may not agree with...whatever it is  _ they _ ’re claiming to be, but… I wanna make ‘em happy. They always said that, so long as I keep her- their, mother happy, then I could stay. I wanna make them happy too.”

And, sure, it was probably not going to stick very long… but it was a start, and Ford was pretty proud of himself for getting your father, at the very least, to that point of understanding. A wet sniffle came from the doorway, and Ford saw you, your mother wiping her eyes right behind you, but you… Your eyes were rimmed with red from crying, and you had a kleenex balled up in your hand. You lunged over the coffee table with your long legged stride and jumped at your dad, who caught you as though you were no bigger than the five year old now on the screen.

And, for a little while, things were nice, and quiet.

-

“--so tell me again, exactly  _ how many _ PhD’s do you have??”

Your sister, along with everyone else in your family, was staring at Ford, who looked rather embarrassed by all of the attention… yet, he couldn’t help but feel a small bit of pride, too.

“Twelve. I got one in--”

“Oh my god!” your brother piped up, the first words Ford had heard him say all evening, and suddenly he launched into conversation with Ford about… something having to do with video games. Which, sure, he couldn’t help but feel lost, but once he realized it was the amazing monsters and creatures from those games, he felt more in place about it all.

“Here, have another slice of cake, Ford.” Your mother put another piece onto his plate, even as he insisted he didn’t need anymore, and he gave you a grateful look when you started stealing fork-fulls from his plate.

“You want a beer, Ford? I got some of the good German stuff today at the German market!” your dad asked, and Ford felt himself curling in on himself a bit from the attention.

“N-no, really, I’m fine, thank you though--”

“Aw c’mon, cut loose a little!”

“Really, I don’t drink… That, and we’re driving to the hotel after this, so--”

“Ooooh a hotel, huh?” your sister said, and your brother’s lament of ‘why can’t we stay in a hotel too’ was met by a scoff from your mother.

“I’m not sure it’s really appropriate for you to stay in a hotel. Why not stay here for the night?”

You and Ford exchanged a glance, and you sighed. “Mom, we’re waiting here long enough for my meds to get transferred… that’s it. Then, after that, we’re leaving, remember?”

“I know. That’s why I think it would be best if my dau-- child, were to stay here.”

And Ford was watching your face, saw the waiting disappointment of being called something you clearly were not.. And he got to see that surprise bloom over your face. It was a small step, but it was enough that it made you visibly happier. He reached for your knee and gave it a small squeeze, your eyes shining when you smiled at him.

“Okay, you two, rooms, now. Us adults need to talk about something.”

“Aw mannn, why can’t we listen too?”

“We can just listen at our doors, you know--”

“Go on, shoo!” The pre-teens groaned and went to their rooms, closing the doors. With them now gone, Ford couldn’t help but wonder exactly what kinds of questions your parents would want to ask. Would they want to know how far your relationship has gone…? Stars, he didn’t think he could talk about that, even if they pressed him for the answer. “So,” your mother said suddenly, tapping her fingers against the edge of her cake plate. “...What are your intentions with my da-- … with them?” She gestured to you, and he felt your hand land on top of his on your knee and squeeze nervously.

Ford swallowed thickly and looked her right in the eye, only paying the utmost respect. “I…” And that’s when he realized… he didn’t really know. Through all of your time together, you’d never even said you were ‘dating’. You’d never called each other anything outside of maybe the occasional pet name. He never referred to you as his datemate, and you never called Ford your boyfriend. All he did know was that he wanted to make you happy… “...I intend to make them as happy as I possibly can, for as long as I can. That’s all.” Even if that wasn’t going to be as long as he would have liked. Even if you end up realizing your time was running out and you left, he still would do everything within his measly human power to make you happiest.

Silence stretched on, interrupted only by the subtle tapping of nails against your mother’s plate. When it finally ceased, Ford watched as a wide smile spread across her lips.

“That’s all we can ask, isn’t it?” And Ford felt something in his chest relax, feeling you sag into his side. “While I don’t necessarily agree, because there’s such a huge age difference… I can’t say anything, really. You’re both adults, and if I know my kid, they wouldn’t let anything happen to them without them agreeing with it.”

And while you’re busy being stunned by the number of times she used your correct pronouns, Ford was blown away by the fact that he just got your parent’s blessing, after what had to be the worst way of meeting possible.

“Yes. Thank you,” he said, meaning it, and giving a smile in your direction as you took another, large bite of cake. “They mean very much to me, and… well, I can say my life has changed for the better since meeting them.”

“Well, you two should probably be heading out then... I know there isn’t enough room here in our house for the two of you to share a bed, and since I know that’s what you want--”

“I-” Ford choked on air for a second, face feeling hot. “W-we were going to have separate beds, I assure you--”

Your parents just laughed, rolling their eyes. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Ford.”

The time passed until it started getting dark out, and Ford reminded you gently that you needed to go check in to your hotel. You got up from the table and threw your arms around your parents, sniffing only once and wiping the corners of your eyes.

“Thanks. ....Really. For everything.”

“Just promise me you’ll call more. I like to hear about how you’re doing,” your mother said gently, and your father snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, and I like bein’ able to harass you.”

You rolled your eyes and punched the older man in the shoulder, who acted like he was mortally wounded. You laughed and gave each of them a hug and kiss goodbye, then returned to Ford’s side, taking his hand in your own.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Into the great unknown?”

You squeeze his hand. “Into the great unknown.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Ford get to your hotel room, and frustrations arise.
> 
> [Bolded *NSFW START* signifies the start of the NSFW content, and the bolded *NSFW END* signifies the end, followed by the NSFW TLDR in italics.]

“What do you  _ mean _ our reserved room got taken?” Ford asked, trying his best to come across as the patient man we all knew he could be, but, honestly, this was getting just a tad ridiculous. Perhaps some of his brother’s lousy luck had rubbed off on him… if he believed in luck at all, that is.

“I’m sorry, sir, but the only room available is the Honeymoon Suite.” The young man behind the counter took a second to admire his nails (painted a fresh coat of lavender, from the looks of it. It matched his uniform smashingly), then looked between you and Ford with a small smile.

“...Does that, by chance, happen to have two beds?” The young man frowned at him, and Ford heaved a sigh. “No, I supposed not… Alright. We’ll just have to--” You smack a hand on the counter, surprising both men as you lean over it slightly.

“We’ll take it.”

Ford gaped at you, then to the young man, who was already recovered and typing in his information.

“Okie dokie! You two can take your bags up to your room. That elevator over there on the right is the one that leads to the top floor, where your room is. Here,” he said, holding out a key card with a heart shape on the back, and Ford felt his face color. “-- is your key card.” You looped your arm through his and pulled him toward the elevator, and he barely had time to grab his bag of clothes before you were on the elevator. “Have fun~!”

The doors closed, and thus began your slow ascent. The air between you was thick with something that Ford couldn’t put a name to, and it made him fidget with the straps of his bag before, finally, slinging it over his shoulder. You, on the other hand, seemed as calm as could be, without a care in the world, and he envied that, honestly.

_ It’s fine. It’s just a room. ...that happens to be called the honeymoon suite. It’s just a room with a bed, there’s nothing to worry about. _

Once you two found your room, he inserted the key card, waited for the light to turn green, then pulled it out and opened the door inward.

The first thing he saw was the bed, which was massive. It had to at least be a King, if not bigger… And the sheets and duvet looked plusher than any other hotel duvet he’d seen. The pillows were perfectly fluffed, and there was-- oh… oh god.

His face burned red and he scowled, crossing the room and reaching for the offending thing on the pillow...but you beat him to it.

“Haha, oh my god, they actually put a condom on the pillow??” you say amongst giggles, like it’s the most absurd thought, but it  _ isn’t and that’s what bothers Ford. _ How easily his mind drifts to doing certain things, even at his age…

“Ha, yeah…” He cleared his throat and turned back to the rest of the room. There was a sofa which seemed to be one of those that pulled out into a bed, so there was hope yet. He went to inspect it and found that it did, indeed, fold out. That would come in handy later.

“Oh my god, Ford, come check this out!” came your excited voice, and judging from the slight echo, he assumed, correctly, that you were in the bathroom.

There was a large jet tub, as well as a standing shower, and double vanity. You were lounging in the tub with your clothes on, no water running obviously, with a leg kicked up. He looked along your body before catching himself, turning around and raising a hand to cover his blush.

“Yes, that is...quite nice. You should take a bath at some point. I’m sure it will help you relax after how stressful today has been.”

“Hmmm… a bath does sound pretty good…” you mused, and he nodded, stepping out of the bathroom, hand on the doorknob.

“Good. You do that, and I’ll wait for you out here.” You frowned at him slightly, grabbing onto the edge of the tub with both hands, fingers curling around the ceramic.

“Don’t you want a bath?”

And the thought of being in a tub full of warm water and bubbles with you was enough that he closed the door on it, speaking through the door with a strained voice. “No, I’m fine. I’ll shower later or something.”

He waited until the sound of running water and dropping clothes met his ears before walking away, though he wished he had walked away sooner. Just the thought that you were bare on the other side of the door… Damn it all, where had this rush of libido come from?? Now was not the time nor the place!

...Though, it  _ was _ a might more ‘romantic’ than receiving a blowjob on the creaky couch down in the basement beneath the Mystery Shack.

He shook his head,  _ No, stop that! They’ve just had a difficult time with their family, and they’re back in a painful place… ...but they did ask if I wanted to bathe with them… Were they trying to initiate things with me and I just shot them down? _

Collapsing onto the couch with a soft groan, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushions. Whatever the reason, he just needed to be patient. And not act on things, and that included his drifting thoughts. But even as he said that, he felt himself beginning to drift again, wondering what your skin felt like wet. It’d be smooth, probably. And soft, even with the cheap hotel soap coating your skin.

Shaking his head again, he pressed a hand to his forehead, breathing deeply. No. This wouldn’t do. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or feel awkward just because he was having issues with controlling his imagination lately.

Desperate for something to distract him, he turned on the television, waiting as the static changed to--

“Ahnn!!” The woman on screen moaned loudly as she was being--

Ford yelped and dropped the remote, face red as he stared for a few seconds. It was...obscene. And definitely not helping his ‘mind wandering’ situation.

“Ford? What was that??” you called, and he snapped out of his thoughts. Shit!

“Uh, ah, n-nothing!” The water was still running, which meant that you hadn’t heard clearly. He still had time, he just needed to--

“Fuck me~”

“Damn it all!” He growled and dropped down to his knees, looking under the coffee table and couch for the remote. When he finally found it, he grabbed it and pointed it at the television, changing the channel.

Bob Ross’s calm voice poured out of the speakers, and he sighed in relief, flopping back onto the couch. Yes. This.  _ This _ was an ample distraction. He could watch Bob Ross paint all day, so long as it kept him from thinking about you in any sort of sexual way.

He’s gone sixty years without any kind of sex before you came into his life, surely he can do this.

  
  


...He couldn’t do this.

You walked out of the bathroom, letting out an incredible amount of steam, and there you were, dressed in nothing but a white hotel towel. He choked on air as he inhaled, falling into a small coughing fit that had you padding your way over to him, concern on your features. He hit his chest to try and clear whatever it was that was making him lose it and shied away from your careful touch, smiling up at you.

“I’m fine, my dear… um.. But you should probably get some clothes on…?” You flushed then, mumbling something about him having seen you half naked already, and he felt himself die a little inside at the reminder. “Yes! Well, I, ahem… I wouldn’t want you to catch cold, my dear--”

“Ford…” You leaned in closer, over the edge of the couch, and he caught a peek of cleavage before he looked away respectfully. “Is something wrong? You’re acting all weird…”

Weird?  _ He _ was acting weird???

“You… erm… well, you see, I--” He cut himself off, cursing under his breath and trying again. “The thing is… I have been trying to be respectful, but you are making it har-- difficult! Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Difficult to… keep my mind from wandering about certain...things… having to do with you and I…” Stars, this was embarrassing. He almost wished they could go back in time to before meeting your parents. Maybe he’d have suggested you eat somewhere else, and then this wouldn’t have been an issue at all.

...Though, if he were to be honest with himself, after that night you took your relationship to a rather…  _ intimate _ place, he’d been thinking about it a lot. Sure, he knew that you could get him off, but he wondered… he wondered what you looked like, and sounded like, and, stars, felt like when you got off.

But back to the conversation at hand, Ford leaned away from your playful little lean, only to regret it when he saw the look on your face turn to one of discomfort.

“You’re… not thinking about quitting us, are you…?”

“No! Stars, no, no no, quite the opposite, really!” That seemed to only confuse you, and he sighed. “Do you remember that night… a-after the movie…?” And he watched your face as it slowly slid into more of the territory of understanding, and then, the next thing he knew, you were covering your face to keep from...laughing? Feeling slightly offended, he huffed, folding his arms over his chest. “I don’t see how this is humorous…”

“N-no no! It… it’s not, I-- heehee, I just… I forgot.” And at first, he thinks you’re trying to say that you forgot about that night, and he frowns, a look of hurt managing its way onto his face. “I mean, I forgot that people… struggle with, y’know… sexual attraction. It’s not a thing for me, so, sometimes I forget…” Then, seemingly too aware of your state of dress, you give him an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Ford, I… I’ll go change in the bathroom, let me just--” You got to your feet, no longer leaning across him the way you were, and he feels like he’s missing something here.

“... Wait.” The word leaves his lips unbidden, before he can realize what he’s said, and you stop, turning around to look at him with a brow raised. “Do you… do you want…?” A flush crawls up both your faces, though his feels like it’s at least a thousand degrees hotter, and he clears his throat. “I-I mean, if you were willing, then I would be… I would be okay with that…”

“Ford.” He turns to look at you, and you’re biting your bottom lip, smiling the slightest bit. “Truthfully, I could use a little stress relief… and… i-if it’s with you, then, I think I can manage…” You sit on the edge of the massive bed and hold your arm open for him, your other occupied with holding your towel to your body so it doesn't come undone. “C’mere, Ford.”

He gets up almost embarrassingly quickly, nearly tripping over his boots so he can move to stand in front of you.

***NSFW START***

And he just.. His hands float over your figure, not really touching you, and you huff out a breath, looking up at him with a brow quirked that way you do, and he chuckles nervously, high in his throat.

“I don’t… my mind can’t make a decision…”

And you stare at him, blinking, before a beautiful laugh breaks past your lips, and you’re taking his hand in yours, pressing kisses to each individual fingertip. And he stares, in amazement and so much more.

“Taking your shoes off might be a good start… get comfortable, y’know?”

“Ah, yes! Of course…” He quickly bends down and unties his laces, raising one foot to try and remove the boot but losing his balance and stumbling to the side. You cover a laugh with your hand as you watch him and he, sheepishly, looks back up at you once his shoes are off.

“Better?”

“Better….yes. Yes, much better.”

“Good.” You kept your thighs pressed tight together as you scooted your way up the massive bed, until your still damp hair fell onto the pillows.You held your arms out and he was quick to crawl over you into them, a knee digging into the mattress on either side of your hips. The towel riding up was only a minor distraction once your fingers started combing through his thick grey hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He lowered his forehead to yours and hummed softly, eyes closed. “Hehe, you’re like Ash…” Ford made a small confused noise, and you pressed a kiss to his nose. “He likes being pet too.”

“Yes, well…” He pulled away and gave his hair a shake, maybe in hopes of straightening it out, but he could feel that it was all mussed now. You stared in awe, then leaned up and pressed a proper kiss to his lips. Your tongue slid out to play with his for a moment, and, when you pulled away for breath, you were panting.

“I’m feeling comfortable in my skin tonight, so… you can do whatever to me.”

Oh, don’t make promises you can’t keep, love.

Ford felt his heartbeat pulse in his chest and lower, and he swallowed past the groan that threatened to slip past his lips at those words alone. The way you said it, your voice so breathless, carrying a note of heat to it...just… beautiful.

“I’m not going to do anything to you…” he muttered, smiling at the confused look on your half-lidded gaze. “We are going to do...  _ things _ ...together.”

You snort, “You’re such a sap, Stanford.”

“Perhaps… but will you love me for it?” Your hand cupped the back of his head and guided him into another kiss, one that stole his breath away just as quickly and made him feel lightheaded. His hands moved to rest on your hips, rubbing circles against the surprisingly soft, plush towel you’d wrapped yourself in. Your hands tug up at the hem of his sweater, and he sits up, not bothering to remove his glasses as he pulls it up and over his head, folding it and setting it closer to the edge of the bed. When he looks back down at you, you’re grinning, and he feels his face bloom with heat. “... What?”

“You folded your clothes before sex. That was… adorable.” He grumbles under his breath as you chuckle at his expense, leaning up to press kiss after kiss after kiss along his jaw line. That grumbling turns into a soft groan when your teeth get involved in the mix, nipping playfully at his jaw and, a bit lower, to his pulse. Your tongue presses there for a moment, feeling his heartbeat, no doubt, before you move further downward. Your hands are at the buckle of his pants, and he feels like this is moving much too quickly, so he stills your hands before they can reach inside and take him in hand.

“Wait, w-wait. I er… This isn’t…” You look up at him, frowning slightly in confusion, and he sighs. “I want to take my time with this… Is that… is that okay?”

“I don’t understand… don’t you want to get off?”

“Well yes-- I-I mean, of course, that’s part of it, but I always figured there was, y’know… more to it than that.” You hum softly, moving your hands up from his shoulders to cup his jaw, and he lowers himself to you, bodies pressing against one another. No doubt you can feel how affected he already is against your thigh, if the way your face flushes and your eyes widen has anything to say on the matter. “Let me experience you, my dear.”

You look uncomfortable, and he’s kicking himself for saying the wrong thing, but before he can apologize, you murmur something under your breath, for only him to hear.

“No one’s… No one’s ever said or wanted to do that before…”

And, inexperience be damned, he was going to do his best to show you through every touch and kiss just how much you meant to him. Not just because no one had bothered to before, but that was a strong deciding factor. It’s with this newfound confidence that he captures your lips in a heated kiss. It’s a slow heat, burning warmly and settling in his belly as he kisses you, and, still pinned beneath his weight, he feels you squirm lightly. When he breaks away this time, he moves to your neck.

“I want to learn every possible factor… every possible answer to the equation. Test all my theories and memorize every dip and curve…” He presses a line of kisses down your neck, down your chest until he reaches the towel, and his hands hover, not yet touching, as he looks up to your face, looking for permission.

Biting your lip, you nod, “Yes…”

Permission granted, he slowly undoes the way the towel is tucked into itself, lifting his body so he can pull it aside. Like unwrapping a present, he mused in his mind, but all thought seemed to disappear when he saw you.

You…

He’s staring, not saying anything, he realizes, but he just… he can’t.

You must take his silence as rejection, because your hands are moving to cover yourself, but he leans up onto his knees, freeing his hands so they can grab your own. He pulls them away, eyes drinking in every bit of your form. Your scars. Your moles. Your stretch marks around your tummy that he never noticed before, on the sides of your breasts. A shiver runs through you, and your nipples bead in the chill of the room. He should have turned up the heat, he thinks absentmindedly, not really much driving force behind it.

“Ford…?” You call his name, but he can’t do anything but  _ look at you _ . His brown eyes are wide, pupils no doubt dilated as the very object of his desire is laid out beneath him in this very moment. “Stanford, say something!” you huff, getting impatient, and he breaks his gaze away from your body-- from  _ you _ \-- to look at your face, and he sees how uncertain you are. He burns away that uncertainty with a kiss, fingers curling around the base of your skull, his other pushing into the mattress to keep his balance over you.

“Beautiful…” That word is all that he can seem to say, murmuring it a second time before he moved his kisses downward again, kissing a line between your breasts toward your belly. This is all so new, so unexplored territory for him, he wonders if he’s doing it right… but, beneath that, is a burning yearning to show you just how much he truly does care for you. It burns bright, overshadowing his doubt and self-consciousness. Your chest rises and falls beneath his lips, and he turns his head to press against your left breast, right over your heart. His eyes slip closed and he just lays there on you, listening. It’s a bit faster than normal, your breathing only slightly quickened… and he had the morbid curiosity of just how fast he could get your heart beating.

“Ford…” Your arm wrap around him tightly, trembling arms that hold him in place for a second, but then he’s on the move again.

He kisses a line down your chest and stomach, stopping to listen to your gut, as well, hearing the churning sounds with a rapt fascination. Then he’s moving again, and he scoots down the bed a bit so that he can get a better look at you. You squeeze your thighs together, your face self-conscious, but he gently places a hand between your knees.

“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll stop but… I-I want to see you…” he says, honestly, and your eyes widen a fraction before you hesitantly spread your legs for him. The hair on your pubic mound is different than that on your head, he notes; but, then again, he always knew you didn’t have such vibrantly colored hair naturally. And while he can’t say he’s exactly seen a lot of them, he can say that you’re… beautiful. He lays on his stomach on the bed, head between your thighs, just to get a better look, and your startled yelp of his name makes him stop. You’re red from your collarbones to your ears, and he asks if you want to stop.

“... No, I just… y-you don’t have to…” He rubs soothing hands up and down the insides of your thighs, making you shiver, and he smiles up at you. Your legs spread a bit further apart, and he focuses back on the task at hand… literally.

He uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart, just admiring your beauty for a moment before he caught sight of a clear fluid dripping from your entrance. And, without thinking, he leaned forward and dragged his tongue along your slit, dragging a choked gasp from you.

And just like that, he was hooked.

He leaned back in and did it again, eyes flickering up to watch your face. Your hips gave a little pulse upward, and you bit your lip, but otherwise you didn’t do much. He pulled back and, after just a few seconds of searching, found what the diagrams in all of his biology classes referred to as the clitoris. He flicked his tongue against it and marvelled at how your body spasmed slightly, thighs moving in to squeeze down on him in reaction.

“Ford--”

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, breath puffing hot against your cunt, and you shook your head quickly. Your hand moved to his hair and tugged as he dove back in eagerly, a growl escaping his lips as you pulled on his hair, a moan escaping your lips. He knew you liked having your clit licked, but what else could he do? What other theories could he try?

He moved one hand from your inner thigh toward your sex, slowly inserting one finger, and you squirmed against his mouth and hand.

“Oh god--”

Okay, you  _ definitely  _ liked that. That was good.

He slowly pumped the finger in and out of you, and he pressed his tongue to your clit, rolling it underneath the slick muscle, and you cried out. Everything was slow, careful consideration. Save for his initial dive in to eat you out, that is. Now that he had you, he was going to take his sweet time memorizing every little thing that made you tick… and maybe he was a little sadistic, but the thought of you writhing and begging under him didn’t feel too bad, either.

When he added a second finger, you didn’t react any differently. And, honestly, as much as he enjoyed the feel of your smooth walls against his fingers, he wanted something a bit...more. So he withdrew his fingers, chuckling softly at your wanton whine for the loss, and moved downward just a bit to thrust his tongue into your entrance.

“Fuck--”

“Language…” he muttered, though he quickly returned to his work. A few thrusts inward, then he’d lick a nice, long stripe up from the bottom of your entrance to your clit, and watch in rapt fascination at how you’d struggle not to thrash beneath him.

A few moments of this and you were panting, and you pulled him up by his hair (it hurt, but hey, he wasn’t complaining really) and kissed him, no doubt tasting yourself on his tongue. You moaned into his mouth and rolled your hips against his, and he swallowed up every sound you made.

“Ford, please… I-I want you. I need you, right now.”

And suddenly he felt less sure of himself, knowing that he was going to have to move on to the main event without having learned that much. It must’ve shown on his face, because you’re kissing him again, and again, and when you pull away, it’s with a plaintive little noise that drives him to rut his hips against yours.

“What if I-- nngh, damn it all… What if I mess this up, or--”

“Stanford, this has already been the best sex of my life,” you say easily, so easily that he feels himself color from the praise, and the next thing he knows, you’re holding out a condom to him, still in its garishly purple wrapper. It had the claim of ‘Skin-tight’ printed on the wrapper, and he wondered what it would feel like.

He nods, though, and sets the condom on the side of the bed, unbuckling his pants and pulling them, and his boxer-briefs, down. You giggle amidst the heat of the moment when you see that his boxer-briefs have sciency-stuff printed on them, and he chuckles awkwardly.

“Such a nerd,” you say, with far too much affection and fondness in your tone, enough that he sputters slightly and turns away, kicking his pants off of him and to the floor as though they’d offended him. “C’mere, babe. Get dressed cuz I’m… I’m ready.” Get dressed? Surely you weren’t saying that about the condom. Making jokes in bed… must be your way of lightening the mood enough to be tolerable. He cracks a smile, albeit a slightly nervous one, and plucks up the condom, unwrapping it and… oh. Fuck.

He tries to roll it on, but it just… won’t?? And then he tries putting it on the opposite way, and it won’t roll down, either? What in the hell was wrong with people that they made this so difficult?? Was it just him? Shit, he’s already tried four times and he’s not getting it on, what if you--

“Here,” you say, helpfully, taking the condom from him and brushing fingertips against the head of his dick in the process, and he shivers. “These things are always impossible, don’t worry. Let me just…” You bring it closer to your face to inspect it, gently touching at the rolled edges, then bring it back to the head of his cock and flawlessly roll it down. And it… doesn’t feel like anything? He looks up at you, slightly incredulous, and you just laugh. “Yeah, these things’ve gotten better.” 

He’s not sure why having you roll that bit of latex around his length was enough to set him off, but it sure did. He pounced on you, attacking your neck in little love bites and kisses as he ground his dick against your core, not penetrating, but pressing the underside against your slit. The head of his cock sometimes slid against your clit, causing you both to moan out. It’d barely catch on the edge of your entrance before sliding past, and you stayed that way for a while, doing just that and exchanging kisses. It wasn’t until it went to slide past but didn’t, sliding in an inch or two that Ford growled, body locking up as he struggled not to slam himself in to the hilt.

You swallowed thickly and looked up at him, breathing through it, and he stroked the side of your face with trembling fingers.

“A-are you okay??” he asked, because you were going quiet on him, and that wasn’t something he was expecting. Had he already messed this up?

“Yes… Sorry, I just…” And then you’re looking at him, eyes glassy, and you’re smiling ear to ear. “It’s never  _ felt _ like this before…”

He leans in and kisses you hard, sliding in another couple inches and swallowing up the whimper you give in response. He’s breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth between kisses, trying to keep his composure because, in all honesty… you feel so good that he could probably come with just a few thrusts. And, at his age, once he’s done, he’s done. No, he wanted this to last.

By the time he’s finally seated in you to the hilt, you’re both breathing deeply, holding onto one another with amazed smiles on your faces. You clench around him, inner walls squeezing, and he groans brokenly, head falling to land on your shoulder.

“You’re amazing…” he mutters, and you do it again. “Ngh-- incredible. An anomaly all my own. Never could’ve anticipated you to feel like th-this…” Then he carefully pulls out, only an inch or so, then thrusts back in, and you both sigh. “Stars, I’m--”

“Ford, please, just… just-- ah!” Deciding it probably better to let his instinct take control now, he pulled almost completely out, then pushed slowly back in, until your pelvises were touching. You didn’t give as much of a reaction at that, so he tried again, only this time a little harder. Your breath hitched, and he smiled a bit to himself, in spite of the pleasure thrumming through his own system. He kept his pace slow, but the strength with which he thrust varied by each one, the unpredictability what, he assumed, was keeping you guessing.

Soon enough your breathing was picked up, and you were letting out little moans and half-groans, eyes closed and head tilted back. Then, curious, he slid a hand down your stomach and between the two of you, searching for a moment until--

“Ngh fuck!”

Bingo. He rolled your clit under his fingertip with each thrust, making small circles around it, and your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to pull him in deeper.

“Ford, ford please,” you whispered, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Please what, my dear?”

“Keep doing that, and-- and don’t stop.”

Simple enough, really. He felt his hips starting to get tired, but he kept at it, thrusting hard with each movement of his hips as he kept his finger circling your clit. His other hand, for lack of anything better to do, moved to lift your thigh up, and-- oh, the interesting reaction he got from that. You yelped, fingers curling into the bedsheets and back arching, and it was almost enough to throw him over the edge, but he wanted… he wanted it to be at the same time. However impossible that was to attain in real life, he wanted to try.

“I love you, you beautiful creature, can’t believe I get to call you mine, you’re so amazing--” He prattled off praise as he felt his abdomen and thighs begin to clench, his impending orgasm unavoidable. He increased his efforts, thanking whatever it was that blessed him with the innate ability to multitask as he leaned in to kiss you as well. You cried out weakly in his mouth, and he thrust his tongue in to dance amongst yours. He pulled back his hips and thrust in  _ hard _ , and like that you snapped like a rubber band. Your back arched off the bed, your neck craned back, and you wailed, and he’d have been afraid he hurt you if it weren’t for the rhythmic sensation of your inner walls squeezing around him. He gave a few, hurried, shallow thrusts and felt himself tumble over the edge, as well, burying his face in your neck to breathe hot against your skin.

Everything was still for a long moment as the two of you struggled to regain your breathing, but when he finally looked up at you and saw tears in your eyes, he felt his heart plummet.

“Oh god, did I-- I didn’t hurt you, did I-- gah!” You pulled him down into a tight hug, a shudder going through him at the sensation of him still being inside you, and you pressed a lingering, loving kiss to his lips.

“No, you dummy, you didn’t. … I just love you, that’s all.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and laid down on your shoulder, allowing you to curl your fingers through his hair.

“Well that’s good, this would’ve been rather embarrassing if you didn’t.” You laugh, and he smiles to himself at the sound. “I love you, too.”

***NSFW END***

_ [NSFW TLDR; Reader realizes that Ford was struggling with sexual frustration and, after some heart-to-heart, decides to have sex. Ford makes it special by paying Reader extra attention and, as he put it himself, wanting to ‘make something’ instead of just ‘do something’ to them. ] _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope nobody minds that I update in chunks like this. I had so much written already, and now I've got this updated with the google doc. So, from here on out, I'll be posting chapters as I finish them. Hope you're looking forward to the next installment! Loves! :heart:


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the science museum brings about thoughts and some good news. Also, the word 'canoodling' is used in this chapter.

The sound of waves licking the shoreline filled his head, and Stanford found himself sitting on the beach, on the swingset he and his brother always played on as children. He must be dreaming, he mused, and went to count his fingers, frowning when there were still twelve.

“Ford…”

He looked up and saw you standing on the beach, toes curled into the sand, waves slowly washing up over your ankles. You were in a white dress, sheer fabric wrapping around you in layers, draped delicately over your thinner frame. Even more delicate was the smile you fixed him with, and he slowly got to his feet from the swing, using the forward momentum to propel his feet forward. His hands grazed down your sides, but you stopped him, snagging one of his hands and bringing it to your lips.

You pressed a kiss to every knuckle, lingering on the sixth, and he felt warmth stir in his chest.

“This is your mind, Ford… Anything is possible.”

“How is this… how are you--”

“I’m just the dream version of them, not the real thing.” He relaxed marginally at that, and you laughed. “I exist in your mindscape to help you sort out your feelings, your thoughts… your desires.” The dip in your voice sends a shiver through him, but he stills your hands before they can move on him.

“I know how it works. And… as much as I find the thought of anyone being in my mind terrifying, I do wish that they could be here with me, right now.”

“They are, though… Physically, anyway. Which, if you think about it, is more fulfilling than some dreamscape fantasy, isn’t it?” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he pulled you into his arms tightly, crushing you against his chest. Your arms slid up around his back to his shoulder blades, scratching lightly.

“Time to wake up, Ford.” Your voice suddenly sounded so much further away, but this was different. He was ready now. He closed his eyes…

...and opened them groggily, slowly, to see you hovering over him, brushing hair out from in front of his eyes. He couldn’t help the lovestruck smile that got caught on his lips, nor could he help the way his heart leapt in his chest when you returned it.

“I was wondering when you would wake up…” you said, sounding far more awake than he felt. He wondered if perhaps you’d been up for a while, and he voices that as an actual question. His eyes drink in the way your cheeks flush slightly, your smile growing more into a grin. “Just for a little while. I was watching you sleep.” He raised a brow, and you stammered gently, “I-I mean, just… You were sleeping so peacefully, I just… I wanted to see you like that for a little bit.”

Pushing himself up on his elbows, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, fingers trailing down your opposite cheek. He could feel it warm beneath his fingers, and he smiled.

“I would kiss you properly, but morning breath is a terrible thing, my dear,” he murmured, pulling away so he could sit up. You were on your knees on the bed next to him, legs tucked underneath you, and when he threw his legs over the side of the bed, he could hear you shuffling closer. Your arms slid around his neck and you pressed kisses to a rather gruesome-looking scar cluster, prompting a shiver and a weak groan from Ford. You moved from his back to his neck, pausing, and… oh. Right.

“You have a tattoo.” It wasn’t a question, of course, considering you were staring right at it. He flushed and chuckled softly, raising a hand to ruffle at his soft, grey hair.

“Yes, not the finest decision I’ve ever made… Probably among my top ten of regrets.”

You didn’t ask him what else was on that list, thankfully, and he twisted his upper body so he could pull you from the bed onto his lap, legs hanging off the side.His arms wrapped around you snugly, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Well, I kind of like it,” you say, decidedly optimistic, and he knows you’re just saying that. He snorts a laugh anyway and presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet, reveling in how you shiver on his lap.

“Do you now?” he asks, and you shiver again.

“Your voice is doing that thing again…” He pauses in his kisses, frowning slightly until he sees how red your face is. “I like it… a lot.” He gives a deep, throaty chuckle as you turn your face towards him, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Good. ...Um, ah--” Suddenly realizing their state of undress, he felt himself flush a bit, another, more flustered chuckle escaping him. You just blinked at him, almost as if to say, ‘Really, Ford? You didn’t notice?’ but he shook his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek and coaxing you to get to your feet. His eyes tried not to wander too far from your face, but it was a difficult task, the memories of the night prior still fresh in his mind. “Anwyay, uh, what say you about a shower?”

“That sounds amazing, actually… I’m kind of sore, and--”

“Sore??” His brows furrowed, concern slowly seeping into his expression, but before he can get too carried away, you cup his cheeks and press a kiss to his nose.

“Stop. It’s normal. You did wonderfully… I honestly never felt more cared for.” And that, and the way you sort of sighed when you said it, made his chest swell with pride. Another kiss, this time to his temple, and you were walking away, and damn him for watching the sway of your hips, but he found himself following you.

You had your phone set on the counter, and music slowly began to pour from the speakers. He wasn’t sure what song it was, it must have come after his time through the portal, or during...but he watched you with a rapt fascination and awe as you danced in the shower. The water cascading down your form, your hips moving in time with the music, you holding what had to be an invisible microphone as you sang along… He felt himself smiling fondly.

These were some of the moments he lived for now. Before, this was nothing but a dream, a far-fetched fantasy that even his mind couldn’t comprehend.

You turned, spotting him watching you, and stuck your tongue out at him playfully, and he let out a soft laugh.

-

The phone rang while the two of you were cuddling, your post-shower bliss washing over you as you dozed off, warm and content, against Ford’s chest. Your hand rested intertwined with his on his stomach, and they rose and fell steadily with his deep, calm breaths.

That is, of course, until the phone rang. Which were in his pants… across the room.

With a sigh, he detached himself from you, chuckling at your little whine of protest for having your pillow getting up and walking away. The ringing grew more incessant, and Ford hurriedly walked across the room, feeling grateful that he’d slipped on a clean (and decidedly less science-y) pair of boxer-briefs as he squat down to snag his pants. The phone was fished out, and he slid his index finger across the flashing green icon before holding it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Heya Sixer,” Stan’s voice came through the receiver, and he felt himself relax marginally. However it was that Stanley always managed to call right as Ford was starting to miss/worry about him most, he wasn’t going to complain.

“Greetings Stanley. How goes the Stan-O-War--”

“Whoa-hoa-hoa! You sure sound like you’re in a good mood.” He could feel his brother’s smirk from the other end of the phone and he colored slightly, cheeks dusting with pink as he turned away from your questioning face on the bed, clad in nothing more than a pair of underwear. Your binder lay on the floor under his bare foot, and he picked it up before flinging it at you, ignoring the ‘whoa’ you gave.

“Stanley, the boat. Tell me about the boat--”

“Now hold on. Why’re you in such a good mood? I take it getting the meds secured went well? You guys headin’ back already?”

Ford glanced around the swanky hotel room and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, “...Not exactly.” Glancing over at you, he saw that you were curled up on the pillows, already fading back out into sleep. He smiled fondly at you before heaving a sigh, moving instead to the sitting area to sit on the couch. He thought better of turning on the television this time-- stars, who knows how Stanley would give him grief for that should there be a repeat of yesterday.

“Well??” Stan asked, obviously wanting the details, and Ford sighed.

“We are currently awaiting a call from their doctor, who happens to be someone I went to college with. It got us an appointment possible days in advance, and they gave us medication to last the week… Though hopefully it shouldn’t take that long to get the approval.”

“Eh, Doctors, they’ll probably keep ya waiting for a while just cuz they can.”

“I am technically a doctor, you know, Stanley,” Ford replied cooly, though a smile played at the corners of his lips, and he could hear his brother laugh on the other end of the phone.

“Damn, you really are in a good mood, aren’t ya?” And before Ford could say anything, Stanley muttered a soft, “It suits ya,” through the line, and Ford couldn’t help but smile.

“Yes, well, I suppose that this is all part of the glow one experiences with love and such things.” A retching sound came from the other end, and Ford frowned. “Oh honestly, Stanley.”

“Hey, I get it, you two are sittin’ pretty in your little nest for lovenerds, but that’s still no reason to be-- ...wait a second.” Ford made a small, questioning noise, and instantly regret it. “You got laid, didn’t ya?!” He choked on the air, and Stanley immediately launched into full, belly laughs. Ford’s face flushed a deep red and he glanced over at you, seeing if you had caught on at all, before turning back to the conversation.

“How did you-- no, why does that matter??” he whispered fiercely, and Stanley’s laughter only seemed to get worse, until he was coughing and hacking.

“Ahh it was worth it… Hey Sixer, how’s it feel to be about forty-three years after me? Haha! Talk about a late bloomer!”

“Stanley…” came the warning tone, and he almost felt like hanging up.

“Hey. Seriously… I’m happy for ya, Stanford.” And just like that, his brother went from being infuriating to fond in the blink of an eye. It was honestly mind boggling, how quickly he could make the switch. But he knew that, despite all the shit Stan may give him at times, that the other man cared for him deeply. A bond between brothers that was unbreakable, now, after everything they’d been through to find one another. Ford felt himself smile.

“Thank you, Stanley.” Then, glancing back at you to make sure you weren’t awake, “Truth be told, it wasn’t planned at all… After the stress of dealing with their parents--”

“Wait, you met their parents??”

“Yes, and it was… less than pleasant, at the start. But it ended on a note that gave me their blessing, so I’m rather pleased with how things went.”

“You sweet-talk ‘em with those dozen PhD’s and the buttload of money you’ve got?” And at this, Ford couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Not even necessary. … Though I did have to bite my tongue a lot. A lot of ah… calling them something they’re not.” Stan hummed, understanding. “But I feel like I’ve made progress with that, too. They were referring to them properly when we left their house.”

“Well damn, Sixer… You sure know how to make a trip into a mission, huh?”

“Perhaps so. ...So, how is the Stan-O-War II? Has McGucket finally finished putting in those upgrades I asked for?”

“Ehh… I’m not sure? I mean, he’s been doin’ stuff, but I don’t notice much difference.”

“Good, I told him to make certain that nothing interferes with everyday life.” And then, sensing Stan’s question before he could voice it, sighed. “It’s just some more protective measures again anomalous activity. Better safety gear and such.” Among other things, of course, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. “Anyway, we should be headed back hopefully in a few days.”

“Yeah yeah, you two have fun eloping. I’ll get shit ready for when you get back.”

“Language, Stanley, and we are not elo--” There was a boisterous laugh, and then the line clicked, signifying that Ford had been hung up on. He stared at his phone, face red, with a light glare before getting up, heading back to the bed. He stopped when he saw you looking at him, laying on your stomach on the bed and your feet in the air behind your head, legs bent at the knees.

“Eloping, huh? Is that what he thinks we’re doing?” you ask, an edge of amusement in your voice, and he sighs.

“Yes, he did say something along those lines… Honestly, sometimes I worry if he thinks I’m just some… mindless, sex-crazed… erm… wh-what are you doing…?” His voice died out slowly as you rolled over onto your back, kicking your legs into the air slowly, your hands moving to cover your chest. Your eyes never left his, though, and that’s the part that had him feeling flushed and hot under the collar.

“Hmmm…” You hum to yourself, perhaps in thought, or just to vocalize a sound… Whatever the case may be, you say nothing else, sitting up and grabbing your binder to slip it on. It looked uncomfortable, and you snort, “Oh, it is.” He must have said that out loud, without meaning to. “Beats having to pay for top surgery, though. This one is kinda...small, though.” He frowned at that, crawling onto the bed and running his fingers beneath the fabric, ignoring your small gasp.

There was hardly any room between the fabric and your ribs, and he frowned more deeply. “You really shouldn’t wear that if it’s too small… Christ, I can hardly fit my fingers in here--”

“That’s what she said?”

He turned his stern look down at your face, and you quickly quieted, though you were still wiggling around slightly from the way his fingers slid beneath the edge of your binder to test things.

“I’m quite serious. Rib deformations are no fun, I’ll have you know, nor are bruised and broken ribs.”

“I know that!” you say petulantly, frowning. “I just… I haven’t been able to afford a new one, and--”

“Well, clearly that’s no problem. I would have no problem buying you a new--”

“Exactly! I don’t want you to have to buy it for me! I mean you’re…” You trail off, looking away from him. “You’re already gonna be paying for my meds, and for me to be on the boat with you guys… I can’t ask for anything else.”

“... Very well. Then I won’t let you ask.” Your head snaps up to look at him, and he smirks slightly. “In fact, I refuse to let you ask. I’ll just take your measurements myself and order it for you, so that you don’t put yourself at risk anymore--” You tackled him, flipping him underneath you in an, honestly, impressive display of skill and strength. He stared up at you as you stared down at him, unblinking… then, with a sigh, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his nose.

“Fine, you win…” He smiled and smoothed his hands down your sides soothingly, giving a little tug on the black fabric of your binder. “And I’ll take this off… on one condition.”

“Name it,” he said, and you leaned in close to his ear, lips brushing the shell of it as your breath tickled against his skin… and he felt himself flush brightly at what you whispered in his ear, pulling you down and crushing you into him with a kiss.

_ “We get back to the ‘eloping’ once I take this off.” _

-

With nothing else to do but hang around the hotel (and canoodle, as Stanley would no doubt put it), Ford looked into things to do in the area. Luckily the hotel that you were staying in had a wealth of knowledge and information about the area at the tourist center. Being there made him miss home a bit, made him miss Stan and the kids, and when you put your hand on his, lingering over a bobblehead, he turned to you with a small smile that you matched easily. You’d be home soon enough… just as soon as things got squared away.

“Hold on a moment!” Ford left your side as something caught his eye, and he grabbed a brochure, opening it up and hunching over it. You frowned and tapped on his shoulder, and he turned on you immediately, holding it open with excitement in his eyes. The text along the top said “Capitol City Science Museum”, big and bold, and you went to look at the rest, but it was snatched away again as Ford looked it over himself. You chuckled.

“Completely forgot that we had a science museum here--”

“Yes, but they have exhibits on anomalies! Which, according to this, is an anomaly in itself, as it’s not usually part of the displays.” You turned to return the keychain you’d pulled down to look at, but he suddenly grasped your hands in his large ones, grinning at you ear to ear. “Would you go with me? To the Science Museum, that is.”

You blink at him,seeming surprised… but, then again, it really isn’t that surprising, is it? Your smile has a strong fondness to it, and you gave the hands holding yours a small squeeze. “Sure, babe, we can go wherever you want.” The pet name only made his cheeks tinge a light pink, and you vowed to try harder in the future. Still, it was nice seeing him so excited about something.

The two of you got into the car and headed on the road. Capitol City was a rather large, spread out city, and the Science Center/Museum was in the center, closest to the central hubs of activity. It was going to be busy, no doubt, lots of people… but he assured you that, as soon as you got uncomfortable, you could leave.

Luck was on his side as he found a parking space right up front, and he locked the car up once you both got out. Your hand slid so easily into his, like it was made for it, and he gave you a small, loving look before the eagerness returned to his face. You laughed at him as he led you both inside, paying for your wrist-bands and tickets to the guest speaker that would be happening here in an hour. The place was packed, though it usually was, according to what you had told him on the car ride there. It was a place mostly for kids, but this exhibit in particular was geared more toward older audiences.

Once you reached the exhibit, he was enthralled, letting go of your hand so he could pull out a pen and notepad from his jacket to take down notes. There were the usual suspects, like things with multiple heads, photographs of conjoined twins that actually shared a body from the shoulders down, and-- he stopped when he saw an entire display on polydactylism, stepping up to it with his notepad in hand.

“Hey, look at that!” a child’s voice broke through his concentration, and he stopped reading the information on the board to look. A small group of children, probably just a few years younger than Dipper and Mabel, were now gathered around the display, laughing to themselves.

“Ew, gross! What do you even call the extra finger??”

“Freaky!”

Ford was sixty years old, surely past this part of his life...but the words of a boy from his own childhood flooded his mind, and he quickly shoved the notepad and his hands deep into his jacket pockets, frowning.

“How do you even wear gloves??” one child asked, and he hadn’t noticed you step forward until your hand was resting on his arm. He turned to look at you, but your attention was on the children.

“You get them specially made, of course.” The group glanced up at you, frowning, and you continued, “I think it’s cool. Just imagine how much faster you can probably type, or--”

“Yeah, well, I think it looks weird.” The main child’s statement was backed up by a short chorus of ‘yeah’s from his peers, all except for one girl, who stepped forward, closer to the display.

“I-I don’t know, I think it looks kind of neat…” she said, and the main boy stopped laughing, a flush rising to his cheeks even as he frowned at her. “I mean… it just means more hand to hold, right?” The boy’s frown deepened, and Ford heard you giggle quietly to yourself as he kicked at the display case lightly.

“...Whatever. C’mon, guys.” The boys all dispersed, leaving the little girl with you and Ford. She immediately turned to you, smiling shyly.

“Thanks for, um, standing up for your friend.” Then, turning to Ford, she gave a smile that would rival one of Mabel’s. “I think you’re super cool!” She then ran off after the boys, calling for them to wait for her, leaving you and Ford standing in front of the display. You slowly reached your hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out his hand, lacing your fingers together.

“She’s right, you know. It just means more hand to hold.” Ford felt his face flush as he mumbled something under his breath, unintelligible, and when you made a small, questioning noise, he just shook his head with a smile.

“Nothing. You’re absolutely right, of course.” Then, glancing around, he sighed. “I thought perhaps I had gotten over it, but I suppose I’m still--”

“Sensitive,” you provide, and he could hear his father Filbrick’s voice in the back of his head.  _ “Pines men aren’t sensitive pansies!”  _ He shook his head again.

“Whatever the case may be… I’m feeling better now, so thank you, my dear.” You gave him a warm smile, one that made him lean down to press a kiss to your lips, chaste and quick, before straightening again. He cleared his throat, “Anyway, shall we?”

“We shall!”

The rest of the exhibits were surprisingly… mundane, but Ford was looking forward to the guest speaker more than anything.

So you could imagine his disappointment when it was hardly about anomalies, at all. Polydactylism and other such birth-defects were the main focus, which was fine… but he was expecting more “plaidypus” and “gobblewonker” and “shape shifter” types of anomalies… His note pad was stowed away into his pocket as he sat, decidedly more bored than he thought he’d be, and you pat his arm sympathetically.

Once the lecture of sorts was over, and the guest speaker began packing up their things, Ford felt you give a small push on his arm. When he looked over at you, you gestured with your hand toward the speaker.

“Why not go talk to them? Tell them about some REAL anomalies? … Not to say you aren’t one, babe.” You punctuated that statement with a kiss to his knuckles, “But I know you were hoping for something different… Maybe they know more about that, but didn’t think it would be good for this particular audience?”

“That’s true… I could always try, but.. Wait, what about you?” You shrugged your shoulders, glancing around the large room. It was barren, for the most part, with the only real ‘decorations’ being the posters and diagrams at the front. You turned back to him with a smile.

“I can always find something to do, no worries. I’ll meet you in the…” you trailed off, thinking. “... biology center? I’ll be wandering around there somewhere.” He gave your hand a small squeeze, about to ask if you were certain, but you just leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’ll be fine. Go have your nerd talk, and come find me when you’re done.”

He nodded, leaning into the kiss a bit before getting to his feet, carefully scooting past you down the row of folding chairs to the aisle. “Excuse me, do you have a moment?” he asked, and the speaker, a man even older than Ford himself, looked up, surprised.

“Why, yes, I do, as a matter of fact. Did you have any questions from my speech?” Ford smiled.

“Actually, I had some additional information that I thought you might like to hear.”

-

Ford walked with quickened steps, frown marring his face as he looked around. The talk had ended up running long.. As in, forty-five minutes long. But damn it all, it had actually gotten fairly interesting, and he’d ended up giving a mini-lecture of his own. Once the person found out who he was (Ford was pleased he had been recognized), they had so many questions, and it just wasn’t in him to leave a question unanswered, so…

But, but now he was trying to find you, and despite having looked all around, he couldn’t seem to find you, until--

“Woah, how come you got it to shut up?? Lemme try!”

The children’s voices from before came just around the corner, and he looked up to see that it was the reproductive science center. He peeked around and saw one of the boys from before manhandling what looked like a baby, and he felt a mild alarm before he heard the obviously recorded cry coming from it.

“Aw man, now it’s cryin’ again!” He turned to you and shoved the baby into your arms, “Fix it!” You fumbled for a second before you held it, the ‘infant’s’ head held up by the crook of your arm, supporting its body with your other arm. You bounced on your feet gently and shooshed it, as though it were a real baby, and… and something inside him found the sight all too appealing, in a strange way. It made a pleasant feeling curl in his gut, working its way up to his chest, wrapping around his heart and squeezing, and try though he might, he couldn’t stop smiling at you.

“There there… See?” you said, voice hushed as the children looked on at you in wonder. “You have to support their head, and you can’t yell at a baby. That only upsets them.”

You seemed quite knowledgeable about the subject… He wondered if, perhaps, you had done research before, when you were a bit younger, perhaps. Maybe at one point you  _ had _ wanted children…

“Ohhh I see!” The boy whispered quite loudly, but it was a marked improvement, and you smiled proudly at him.

Judging by the age difference between yourself and your siblings, you would have been… fourteen? Yes, you would have been around fourteen or fifteen when they were born. You probably had a lot of experience with helping with them, which would explain why you were so good with children in general.

The children ran off, having lost interest, but thanking you for the ‘lesson’, and you just stood there at that particular station, rocking the baby in your arms before slowly bending at the waist to return it to its ‘crib’. He moved then, feet carrying him silently across the carpeted floor until he was behind you, hands sliding around your waist. You jumped slightly, turning to look at him, perhaps not realizing it was him, because the smile on your face is relieved and happy all at once.

  
“Oh, Ford, how was the discussion?” you asked, voice still hushed, and he chuckled quietly.

“It went rather well.” He kept his voice hushed as well, just for the sake of it. “They recognized me from my research papers and had many, many questions to ask me…”

“And, knowing you, you can’t just leave a question unanswered, so you stayed to talk.” He looked at you apologetically, but you just grinned. “I know you. I knew that was what was going to happen.”

“Yes, well, I still shouldn’t have left you for so long. I apologize.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, mumbling a soft ‘it’s fine’ against his skin before pulling away. And perhaps it was the strange feelings he got from watching you interact with that ‘infant’ or the kids, or whatever, but he was feeling rather… needy, at the moment. So he captured your chin in his hand and pulled you in for another kiss, only pulling apart when he heard the kids saying something about it from across the room.

“Ew, gross! Kissing!” The lead boy laughed and pointed, up until the little girl leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His face turned beet red and he was quiet, even as his friends laughed and acted grossed out.

He couldn’t help but chuckle along with you at the display, and he slowly released his hold on you, moving instead to hold your hand. “Well, where else would you like to go?” He glanced over at you as you hummed in thought, and, after a moment, you were about to open your mouth to answer when a ringing sound broke the murmur of conversation around you.

There had been a no cell phone sign at the beginning of the exhibit. Pulling you along, Ford removed his phone from his pocket and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes, is this Dr. Pines? This is Dr. Kamara Yousef, from Capitiol City Mental and Behavioral Services.”

“This is Dr. Pines, yes.”

“Wonderful! I was calling to let you know that we have everything all squared away for you two.” He stopped just outside the exhibit, his grip on your hand loosening so you could pull away a bit to look at him. “We have a global card ready for you with all of their prescriptions on it. As soon as you can come by, so long as it’s before five, then we can get this to you and you can be on your way!”

“That is fantastic news indeed!” Your look of ‘who is it and what’s going on’ increased, but he continued speaking instead of answering you right away. “We will be on our way right now. Thank you very much for your assistance.”

“It’s my pleasure. I just want them to have what they need to be healthy.”

A few pleasantries were shared before he hung up, and you moved to stand in front of him, looking all at once curious, hopeful, and exasperated.

“...Well??”

He grinned, “We got them.”

And to the outside world, it must’ve looked like you got confirmation of something far grander, standing outside the reproductive science exhibits, you hugging around his neck and laughing, his hands resting on your hips. He realized this, and just… let it be. Didn’t overthink it, this time.

-

Swinging by the doctor’s office was a snap, though he was slightly surprised that you were okay with putting him down as someone who could access your information. It only made sense, you had said, and the person behind the counter looked uncomfortable as they got up to go grab and make a copy of your records for him.

You were back in the car before you knew it, your things in the back and on your way back to Gravity Falls. You turned the radio, and there was silence as you adjusted the channel to catch a frequency.

A single guitar was playing, or perhaps a ukulele? Either way, you leaned back into your seat, and started to sing along.

_ “Wise men say… only fools rush in, _ _   
_ _ But I can’t help… falling in love with you.” _

He glanced over at you, and noticed you were staring right at him from the corner of your eye. Swallowing thickly, he sang the next part, surprising you with his rich baritone.

_ “Shall I stay? Would it be a sin… _ _   
_ _ If I can’t help...falling in love with you?” _

You smiled, warm and soft, and leaned against the window, looking out at the scenery as it passed you by.

_ “Like a river flows… slowly to the sea… _ _   
_ _ Darling, so it goes… somethings… were meant to be.” _

He slid his hand over from the wheel to take yours, resting against the seat, and you intertwined your fingers together tightly.

_ “Take my hand… take my whole life too.” _

You gave a hard squeeze at that, and he felt his heart thump hard against his ribs once.

_ “Cause I can’t help...falling in love with you.” _

The rest of the song played through the silence, and he knew you were staring at him, intently and full of hope... 

When he stopped at the next red light before turning on the highway, he turned and kissed you, long enough that the person behind you honked to tell him the light had turned green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would totally write more smut if I knew if you guys wanted that?? Like, just lemme know in the comments or something if that's something you're interested in, because otherwise I'll try and keep it to 'important' bits.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stan busts out some moves, Ford becomes concerned, and you become injured.

Gravity Falls was a welcome sight after spending so long (or at least, what  _ felt _ like so long) in the midwest. The smell of the water greeted him when he rolled the Stanmobile’s windows down, dropping the top, and he laughed in that kind of carefree way being around you brought forth when you raised your arms into the air. The familiar roads were easy to navigate, the maps and phone GPS put away for the time being as you just… drove around, for a moment. You waved at Lazy Susan, who spotted you from the sidewalk in front of Greasy’s, and Ford gave a single nod of acknowledgement at the Northwest girl, Pacifica he believed her name was. She gave a hesitant wave, and, briefly, he wondered why on earth she wasn’t in school.

But once the two of you pulled down the old dirt road leading to the Mystery Shack, he heard you let out a sigh of relief, squeezing his hand once it came into view. Despite what you may have said, this place had become a sort of home to you, and he knew that… so it was good to be back. He couldn’t help but agree.

Stan was sitting on the porch, checking his watch when he heard the two of you pull up. He got to his feet with a stretch, hands on his lower back and a groan, no doubt, the way he always did. Ford put the car in park and turned off the engine, releasing your hand so you could both get out.

“‘Bout time you two got back here,” he gruffed, though Ford could tell he was happy to see them anyway. “Get on inside and pack up, the boat’s ready to go whenever we are.”

“Why the rush, Stanley? We only just got back.” Ford folded his arms over his chest and raised a brow at his twin, whose mouth twisted up into a small smirk.

“There was a group of merfolk, travelling out to sea from the bay.”

That got Ford’s attention rather quickly. “Merfolk, you say? Are you certain it was--”

“Yeah yeah, I’m certain! That Mermando guy Mabel wouldn’t shut up about a few summers ago was with ‘em, said that they were making their move to warmer waters.”

“... This  _ would _ be the most opportune time to track their migration pattern, see if they change at all in the colder climate…” Ford mumbled to himself, and Stan stepped to his side, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Eh? Eh? So we gonna do this, or-- ...wait, where’d your ‘datemate’ go?”

The two men looked around, not finding hide nor hair of you. Ford frowned, calling out your name, and you burst from the front door of the Mystery Shack, all of your belongings supposedly crammed into your backpack, which, apparently, weighs fairly heavy on your back, if the way you grunt and struggle says anything.

“Ready to go on an epic Mermaid Quest!” you shout, hands on your hips, before you start tipping slowly backwards. Your arms fly out to try and balance yourself, but you’re falling. Before Ford can move, Stan’s already there, grabbing your arm and righting you on your feet.

“Upsy-daisy!” Then, regarding the backpack with a bit of a smirk, he pats you on the back, sending you toppling forward and into Ford’s waiting arms. “What, you bring everything but the kitchen sink? Haha!”

“Oof! ...Heheh, ahh…” You looked up at Ford with a small flush on your face, righting yourself again before turning to Stan, arms crossed over your chest and a stern look on your face. “I’ll have you know I packed only the essentials!” Stan raised a brow, and you deflated a little bit. “Or… Well, I packed all my clothes, my phone and computer and chargers… Oh, and my video camera.”

“You have a video camera?” Ford asked, smiling. “That’s great! You’ll be able to help us out by recording the migration!”

“You’ll uh.. You’ll trust me with that?” you asked, and Ford nodded immediately, sweeping you up into his arms.

“Of course, my dear! You’ll do marvelously, I just know it!” The smile you fix him with is fond, and just a touch hopeful, but the moment is ruined by Stan belching so loudly that you startle, nearly falling over again. “Stanley!”

“Ahh whatever, you two can be saps all you want later. Right now, we gotta get to the boat.” Stan and Ford looked at each other, then both started speaking at the same time. “I’ll drive!”

“I’ll dri-- ugh, fine.” Ford relented as Stan laughed and got into the driver’s seat, honking the horn to be obnoxious while Ford turned back to you. “I’ll go pack my clothes real quick, you go ahead and get in the car.”

“...Back seat so we can smooch and gross out Stan?” He chuckled and shook his head, but when you just stared, waiting for an answer, he sighed, smiling.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

-

“Whoa… This is it?”

You were looking out at the water to the boat, where it bobbed and rested in the waves, and Ford had only just managed to catch up to you at the end of the pier when you whirled around, eyes bright and smile wide.

“This is amazing! The Stan-O-War II in person! Whatever happened to the first Stan-O-War?”

Ford glanced away, bag heavy on his shoulder, but Stanley had no problem answering for him, it seemed.

“Eh, it kinda fell apart. Never really went anywhere.” An awkwardness hung in the air, one you were privy to, if the way you frowned and looked at Stan said anything. “..What? The first boat is probably washed away in pieces back in New Jersey. ...C’mon, let’s get on board already. I’m sure Ford’s excited to see all the new technical shit McGucket put in.”

“Language, Stanley,” Ford sighed, following his twin as he walked past you and onto the boat.

The deck wasn’t too terribly large, big enough for fishing baskets and gear and the control room. The most exciting part happened below deck, which is where the three of you went to drop off your things and get set up. Ford heard you gasp when you saw the compact living quarters, smiling ear to ear.

“This is so cool! There’s a little kitchenette and everything!” You were currently marveling at the stove, which was fully functional, though a tad smaller than your usual range. There was a booth-style table as well, tucked into the corner, and a counter the range was built into. On it held a coffee maker (essential, as Stan put it), a microwave, and, in the opposite corner of the table was a fridge. It was on the smallish side, for a fridge, and when you looked at Ford with an eyebrow raised, he chuckled.

“Don’t worry, dear, we pull into port wherever we can to resupply and restock. We won’t run out of food. ...Unless Stan decides to have a one-man eating contest, like he did last year--”

“Hey, you said it was gonna expire soon anyway!”

“Yes, that doesn’t mean you gorge yourself on it right away!”

“Hey, c’mon, boys, no fighting.” You held your hands up in a placating gesture, and Ford kicked himself mentally as he remembered yelling was one of your ‘things’. Clearing his throat and turning away from Stanley, he gestured to the door on the right.

“If you go through that door, you can pick a bunk--”

“Ah c’mon, we all know that they’re gonna sleep with you.” Ford turned a bit red at that, and Stan snickered while you left the room to supposedly go pick. With that, he whirled on his twin, giving him a light glare. “What?? Am I wrong?” Ford said nothing, and Stan sighed. “Look, your nightmares have been better since they started sleepin’ by ya, right?”

“Er...yes…”

“So, what’s the big deal?”

Ford opened his mouth to answer, but a sound that could only be described as a  _ flump  _ broke his concentration, and he turned and looked into the sleeping quarters to see you spread out on the top bunk. He had to ask. “Why the top bunk?”

“Because you’re the Alpha Twin,” you said cheekily, laughing at Stan’s ‘hey’ of protest. “That, and I figured it’d be less climbing for Stan.”

It was true, for whatever reason (be it because of the time spent in other dimensions or the experiments), Stan seemed to be physically older than Ford himself, despite the both of them being the same age. It was something that Stan was sensitive about, didn’t like talking about, so Ford was grateful that you worded it in that way. And just in general. The amount of care you paid his brother was well appreciated.

“Heh, look kid, I dunno what you’ve heard, but I’m definitely the Alpha Twin here.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.” Then, turning to Ford, “Hey! Arm wrestle me!”

Ford scoffed, “You’re so easily goaded, Stanley. I’ll politely decline and instead get my stuff set up.”

“Coward!”

The three of you share a good laugh and then set to work putting things into their proper places. When you pull out your camera, Ford is quick to glance over at it, curious. It looks relatively new, like it was bought within the last year, and he had never seen you use it… He couldn’t help but wonder why. You catch him staring and smile, holding it out to him.

“Wanna see it?”

He held out his hands and delicately accepted the video camera, moving it around in his hands to look at it from all angles. It looked like there was a small screen that flipped out to the side so you could view what you were recording for clarity’s sake. Testing his theory, he unclipped the small, rectangular piece and pulled on it gently. Sure enough, it was a screen. The controls, however, were made for those with five fingers-- or at least, four fingers and a thumb, so he would definitely have trouble working this.

All the while, he senses you watching from the corner of your eye, and he glances over to catch you staring at his hands. Swallowing, he wordlessly handed the camera back to you, and you took a few seconds longer than usual to realize he was doing so. You took it from him, fingers brushing, and he tried to ignore the yearning he felt from just that touch alone.

“Thanks,” you murmured, and, in the silence in-between, he muttered a soft ‘you’re welcome’ in response.

-

Once the sea sickness had settled for you (you’d spent a while being very sick off the side of the boat, while Stan playfully complained about the paint job), you were walking around with your video camera, claiming that you were wanting to ‘be ready at a moment’s notice’... In reality, you were just videotaping your very first expedition on a boat out at sea.

Ford knew this because he was sitting below deck, reading over his journal and looking at the newer, higher-tech doppler radar for any unusual sealife when he suddenly felt something breech his personal space. He turned to his left to see what it was and was met with a camera lense, and you smiling behind it.

“Say cheese!”

“It’s a video camera, you don’t say cheese to--”

You suddenly scooted yourself into the booth, hip-checking him until he moved over, and turned the camera around to record you both. You put on a serious expression.

“Day 1 at sea. Food is running low, and we’ve lost sight of all intelligent life as we know it.”

“I’m right here, you know--”

“All. Intelligent. Life.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes, knowing that you didn’t actually feel that way, especially if the apologetic little kiss to his cheek meant anything. He turned into it and planted a kiss on your lips, chuckling when he saw your face flush a pretty shade of red. You quickly turned the camera back around and shut it off.

-

“--’m tellin’ ya Sixer, we  _ needed _ these bottles of rum. It was a necessity.”

Ford rolled his eyes at his brother, who bumped shoulders with him, nearly making Ford drop the bags of groceries in his arms.

“And why is that, Stanley?”

“Because,  _ Ford _ ,” Stan began, lifting one of the glass bottles out of the brown paper bag with a grin. “Can’t be good pirates without good rum--”

“We are  _ not  _ pirates, Stanley.” Though he said that with what sounded like confidence, as soon as his twin leveled him with a look that said ‘really?’ Ford felt less than certain. They had gone into territories they weren’t meant to go into before, and there was that one time where they--

“Hey, what’s that music?”

Curious, the boys followed it to the end of the pier, where their boat was docked. There you were on deck, phone set up and playing some kind of… peppy, foreign song? The lyrics seemed to be partially in Italian, not that there were many lyrics to be heard. It sounded more like a remix of an older song, were Ford to be honest with himself. But what stood out more than the music was you, dressed in a pair of shorts and your hoodie, your now slightly longer hair pulled back into a top ponytail.

You were  _ dancing _ , smiling widely to yourself and humming along with the tune as you did so. Nothing special, just spinning in little circles and moving your feet. Stan stepped forward before Ford could, turning up the music on your phone, starting the song over, and setting down the heavy bags of alcohol (among other supplies). He held a hand out to you, and you looked embarrassed at being caught for only a few seconds before Stan started dancing, too.

Ford had heard in passing that Stanley could dance, but he didn’t know just how well. But as you took his hand, he led you in a swing dance along with the beat of the music. He spun you almost expertly, as if he knew exactly where you would be and what you would do, he was there to meet you with a move of his own. You got spun into Stan’s chest, your back against it, and you laughed when Stan spun you back out, putting your arm out to finish with a bit of flare.

And Ford tried really, really hard not to think too much about it, but it was just… The two of you moved in such harmony. He’s certain if he had tried, he’d be stepping all over your feet, and… the way you looked at Stan, your eyes so bright and your face cheerful, having so much  _ fun _ , he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe… maybe there was something there.

The song ended, and the two of you broke apart, though not before you threw an arm around him in a hug, patting his back affectionately.

“Heh, that was pretty good. Didn’t know you could dance,” Stan complimented, and you scoffed, pulling away from him to punch his shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, right! Where were you hiding moves like those??”

“Back at the club, where they should’ve stayed. Thank god no one’s lookin’.” The two of you shared a laugh, and, realizing he’d just been staring with a frown on his face, Ford quickly gathered up the bags in his arms and walked on deck, immediately turning to go down below to the kitchen. He heard you calling after him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop right then.

_ What if you and Stan have something going on? _

He shook his head fervently, trying to dispel the thought. No, you wouldn’t do that. You were loyal…

You would tell him if you had, anyway...right?

-

Ford kept to himself for most of the voyage after that, making small talk, but overall avoiding spending much time around either you or Stanley. It wasn’t like he was really  _ wanting _ to avoid you, it was just… the thoughts were growing stronger. He was noticing more things. Little things, but they were things, regardless.

“Hey, Sixer!” Stan’s call broke Ford out of his thoughts, realizing he’d had his pen poised over a page of his journal to write, but was too distracted to actually write anything down. He flipped the book closed with a sigh and clicked the end of the pen, watching the writing end retract into the plastic casing. He set it down and got up, heading up on deck to see what his brother wanted.

There was an island, from the looks of it, and Stan was gesturing broadly to it. “Wanna take a stop?”

Suddenly, the engine sputtered and died, and Ford sighed, grabbing hold of the railing of the boat as it suddenly began to slow.

“I suppose we have no choice now… Think you can fix the boat? I’m going to explore, see if I can’t find any anomalous activity..” Stan nodded, though there was a bit of an odd look on his face. You emerged from below deck behind Ford, placing a hand on his lower back, and he fought back a shiver as he stepped away. “Get as close to the island as you can without beaching us. I’m going to go change.” He turned away from you and walked past you downstairs, not missing the small, slightly hurt noise of question you made.

  
  


Once he’d made it on the small island, he put a hand over his glasses to shield from the sunlight and took a good look around. There were some trees with fruit, that might be useful… but what he was really looking for was something weird. Something out of the ordinary.

...something to distract him from the traitorous thoughts in his mind.

“Whoa, a secret island, huh? All I need is a coconut bra and a grass skirt.”

“I see a few coconuts up there, I’ll see what I can do.”

Idly, he could hear you and Stan talking and joking on deck, and he sighed. This wasn’t helping. He needed to get away for a bit… clear his head. So with that, he set off to the other end of the island, boots digging into the sand as he went.

  
  


When he finally heard you approaching him, he was knee deep in the water, swimming trunks just an inch or so above the water. It was cold, but not enough for him to worry, so he stayed.

“What’re you doing over here?” you ask, voice light, and like nothing at all was going on that was driving Ford insane.

“Hm… Documenting how these creatures react to human touch. They’re surprisingly receptive to it.” You came closer, your footsteps splashing slightly, making the creatures back away a bit before they surged closer, sensing the new person.

“What are they…?” you asked, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the wonder in your voice. They were… well, sting rays, if he were to put it plainly. But instead of a stinger at the end of their tails, there was a loose, flowing piece of what looked like...yarn? Made out of seaweed? Their bodies were also decorated with squiggle-like patterns.

“I call them string-rays. ...Y’know, like stingrays, but not quite.”

“Sea flap flaps…” you whispered, and he gave you a confused look, brow raised, before you giggled playfully. “That’s what I always called stingrays, anyway... They’re cute, aren’t they?” You crouched down and held your hand out, palm flat against the water, and waited. One or two vied for your attention at once, fighting to be the one to be pet, so you put both hands out, smiling to yourself. He watched with rapt fascination as they both stopped fighting and swap up to bump the tops of their bodies against your palms, and you gave a small giggle, looking thoroughly pleased.

“Yes, well. Did you need something?” You turned to him then, and he kind of wished he hadn’t said anything, because you were frowning.

“No. Can’t I just come hang out with you..? Am I in the way or something?”

“N-no! I mean, I wasn’t really researching these things much… I forgot my notepad, afterall.” You were silent and, when he chanced a glance over at you, he saw you studying him intently. He swallowed. “Well, I better go get my notepad--”

“Ford.” He stopped, and your face morphed into a look of concern. “Is everything… I mean, you’ve been acting… distant, lately. Is everything okay?”

Visions of you and Stan, dancing so carefree on deck, came to his mind, and he snapped his mouth shut, turning away.

“Fine. I’m just busy, that’s all. ...You keep these things company while I go get my notes, alright?” Then he started off, but you moved to follow, the beginnings of his name leaving your lips before a gasp of what seemed like shock and pain escaped your lips, followed by a splash. The string-rays dispersed, and Ford sighed, turning to say something to you when a cry of sharp pain tore its way from your throat. Alarmed, he moved back to you, hands held out to try and help you up. “They shouldn’t be capable of hurting you, what--”

You held your foot up and he saw the source. A handful of spines were buried deep in the tender middle of your foot, the arch, and he winced, watching as blood and some pink substance trickled from around the wounds.

He pulled you out of the water immediately, not getting you to your feet, instead just dragging you. He went back to the water, trying to spot whatever it may have been and… there! There, in the water, was a cluster of what looked like sea urchins, except they were pink, and glittery, almost as if someone had let Mabel near the craft supplies. He turned back to you, and you’d gone horribly pale, your breathing harsh as you bit back cries of pain as they washed over you in waves.

“Hang on! I’ll get us back to the boat, just…” Walking was no option, obviously, so he sighed, kneeling down and hooking one arm around your back, the other under your knees. When he stood your arms immediately latched around his neck, face pressing into his neck to muffle your cries. Hot tears dripped against his collarbone, and he ran as well as he could in his boots back to the boat.

“Stanley!” The urgency in his tone must have gotten his brother’s attention, because in an instant Stan was on deck, wiping his greasy hands on a rag and tossing it aside to lean over the edge of the boat. When he saw you being carried and the way you were writhing in Ford’s arms from what was obviously pain, he ran back to the control deck and grabbed the first aid kit.

Getting you back on board was tricky, but they managed, and Ford was quick to follow.

“What the hell happened?!” Stan asked, moving to your feet to look at what was causing you so much pain. He sucked in a short breath at seeing the spikes, the barbed spikes, from the looks of them, and looked to Ford. “What are we gonna do? There’s no doctor for miles.”

“We’ll have to remove them ourselves… Get me a bottle of the alcohol and some pain killers out of the kit, if you please. Ford was already putting on a pair of gloves, muttering with a curse as he realized they were five-finger latex gloves. He thought for sure he’d ordered specific ones, but it must have slipped his mind. He made due by cutting a small hole into the side to let his extra finger stick out, and grabbed a pair of tweezers.

Stan popped the bottle off of the pain killers and handed you a couple, which you took in a shaky hand and swallowed dry, coughing. He passed you the rum and you took a heady swig, grimacing at the taste.

Ford realized this was going to get difficult quickly… Because it was obviously causing you so much pain, you weren’t going to let it be easy to remove them. But he had to, no matter what. Whatever toxin or substance it was that the spikes were oozing into your system, it was turning your skin clammy and pale, shiny with sweat. He could see it moving up your leg, which spasmed every now and again with pain. He shared a look at Stanley, who just nodded, knowing already what needed to be done.

Stan situated himself behind you, with your back leaning up against his chest, one leg folded beneath your body while the other crossed overtop your injured leg. Panic rose on your expression, and Ford reached a hand out to soothe you, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. Your eyes met his, and… he felt far more relieved than he should have that you started to calm, just with that.

“Do it,” you said, struggling to swallow past what had to be intense fear in your throat.

So he did.

The first spine was difficult on its own, and it was the smallest. The barbs made it difficult to remove them. You cried out, writhing despite what was obviously your best attempts to stay still. Stan held your arms down at your sides in a sort of hug, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Yer doin’ great kid, doin’ great--”

It came out with a tug, and a sharp cry from you, followed by a gush of blood and whatever that pink fluid was. As an afterthought, Ford paused to grab a test tube and held it under the wound, letting the fluids drip into the tube.

The next few went the same way, but it wasn’t until one particular one that you threw your head back, body spasming violently. Stan held firm, giving a grunt of exertion, and Ford added the spine to the pile of the others.

“Only a few left…” he muttered, more to himself, but Stan had heard.

“Hear that, only a few left. You’re doin’ so good, just a couple more.” Stan was  _ praising  _ you, comforting you with words in a way that Ford was never very good at, and you were responding to it, leaning heavily back against his twin’s chest and moving to hold his hands in yours.

He needed to get this over with quickly.

The last few were the hardest, simply because his tweezers were slick and sticky with blood and you were shaking so badly. There were obvious holes left in your foot, but, right before his very eyes, they started to slowly close on their own. Possibly to trap whatever was left of the toxin inside. But before he could do anything about it, they were closed, and you were left gasping and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

“There ya go, pumpkin, you did great. Y’ should’a seen the time I had to get stitches out in Vegas. Couldn’t find a real doctor, so I had to get a buddy of mine to do it, hehe.” You don’t laugh, but he slowly releases his hold on you, passing you off to Ford. “I’ll go put these in your little lab area, ‘kay? You take care of them.” Ford was about to argue that Stan might not know where to put them, but the look Stan gave him was firm, stern, and Ford sighed.

“Hold on, let me just…” He set aside the bloodied tweezers and then moved to pick you up, struggling only a bit because of how much you were shaking. Getting you down the narrow stairs and onto the top bunk was a challenge, as well, but Ford managed, tucking you in even as you twitched and shivered. Pausing, he felt your forehead, wincing at how cold you felt against his skin. He threw on a couple extra blankets, just for the heck of it. “Are you alright?” he asked, mostly because he was worried, but also because he felt he should at least try and make up for being so distant, like you’d said.

You were silent, though, for a long time. Long enough that he started to wonder if maybe you’d fallen asleep. When you did finally speak, though, it was breathy, and hoarse. “I’ll be f-fine… go work.” And it was probably meant to come from a good place, but it felt like a dismissal. And he supposed he did have work to do now, studying those spines and the toxin to see what the effects would be… but, instead, he climbed up onto the bunk with you, squeezing in behind you so he could wrap his arms around your shaking figure. The little surprised noise you made was followed by a muttering of his name and, when he didn’t answer, you sighed. “You’re confusing…”

You carefully rolled over, legs spasming slightly as you worked them, and threw an arm across his middle, nuzzling into his chest with a sigh.

“Love you…” you mumbled, then promptly fell asleep. He stared down at your face for a while, taking in your features. Then, with a sigh, he leaned down to press a kiss to your cold, sweaty forehead.

“And I, you…”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're acting strangely, something catastrophic happens, and there's a brotherly heart-to-heart.

It was well past midnight when Ford finally went to bed, the tests on the spikes he’d taken from your foot being inconclusive. It appears that, once removed, they dissolve after a few short hours. If it weren’t for them being so painful to you, he might have left them in to dissolve naturally. But then there was also the problem of the toxin. So far, he hadn’t been able to scientifically determine anything about it.

He was on his way to bed, eyelids already feeling heavy, when you barged past him from the bedroom, heaving and panting heavily, drenched with sweat from head to toe. Your clothes and hair were sticking to your skin, and you were frightfully pale. Even your thick hoodie was soaked, and that was… worrisome.

You wrenched the fridge open and grabbed a bottle of water, uncapping it and bringing it to your lips.

Maybe he’d covered you with too many blankets? But still, that would explain the--

His thoughts stopped as he watched you practically inhale the water, it vanishing from the bottle far faster than it should have for a human to be consuming it. It didn’t even look like you swallowed it. You tossed the empty bottle aside and grabbed another, treating it the same way. Then another. And another. And at this point, Ford was beginning to worry you’d make yourself sick with how much you were drinking, or that you’d kill yourself by overloading your system with water.

When you made a move to grab one of the gallon-size bottles, he put a hand out and grabbed your wrist, slick with sweat, almost too slick. You jerked your hand away and turned to him, eyes wide… but then, then you seemed to realize who he was, and you stopped, your breathing calming the slightest bit. Your chest still heaved with breath, but it was softer now, more quiet.

“You can’t drink that much water all at once, you’ll make yourself sick,” he said simply, explaining, and, after a long moment, you nodded slowly. Instead you grabbed another small water bottle and closed the fridge, shaking as you uncapped it and brought it to your lips for another drink. “Are you feeling well? You certainly don’t look it.”

“Ha, thanks… needed to hear that,” you said, jokingly, but he didn’t laugh.He was worried. You must’ve been able to read that from his face, because you sighed, slowly making your way past him to go back to the bunk room. “I just needed water, I’ll be fine.”

Ford stood in the kitchenette for a while longer until, with a sigh, he picked up the empty bottles and tossed them into the trash. He wasn’t making any headway, and as things stood now, he wasn’t even thinking about the mermaid migration that was happening right then. His head was all over the place, in places it shouldn’t and places it should, but never in the place it needed to be.

And it was… it was frustrating. It was  _ frustrating _ because his mind wasn’t listening to him, and it was telling him things that he knew weren’t true, but were making him start to believe were true, and it was… just, frustrating. That was the only word he could think of to describe it.

He needed to talk to someone...about all of it.

...Later. For now, he needed to make sure that you were okay. Even if that involved taking you off course and to the nearest port to get you to a medical professional.

-

You were switching frantically between feverish and chilled, and Ford had absolutely no idea why… and that was what scared him the most. He had no explanation, aside from ‘something in the sea urchin spines’. It could be magical, for all he knew, and he had no knowledge on how to cure it.

He watched with a pained grimace as you hovered over the toilet in the small bathroom, vomiting up every last ounce of water you had so desperately chugged before. That was another pattern, he noticed. Going to bed chilled, waking up flushed and feverish, drinking a ton of water, going to sleep… waking up and throwing it all up. At least he wasn’t too worried about you being dehydrated, but still, this couldn’t be good for you. And they were beginning to run low on water bottles.

Stan came below deck after having made anchor, radio in hand that was playing the weather for the general area they were in.

“Bad news, Sixer,” he said, wincing only slightly as you leaned forward and expelled more of the foul, bitter bile-water from your mouth into the toilet. “Storm. Bad one, according to this. It completely swept past our planning, we’re not prepared for it…” Ford frowned, opening his mouth, but another wave of sickness from you made it snap closed.

...The merfolk would have to wait.

“Alright. We’ll try and find the nearest port.”

“But the migration--” You gagged and vomited again, and Stan turned to glance at you, sympathy set deep in his features. An amount of care that Stan rarely showed to anyone outside of the family. Ford felt his insides shift slightly uncomfortably, and he shook his head firmly.

“Can wait. We’ll try and catch up to them after the storm.” He couldn’t help but sound a little disappointed, but he easily brushed it off. “Right now, getting them healthy is more important.”

Stan nodded in agreement, only turning back to you when a weak cry spilled past your lips, along with what appeared to be the last of the water in your stomach. You’d shed your hoodie since it had gotten soaked with sweat, and your tank top had ridden up some in your quest to get to the bathroom. Ford could see your stomach muscles struggling to force out more, but there just wasn’t anything else to give. It looked painful, and, if the look on your face was anything to go off of, it was.

You blindly groped for the handle on the toilet, flushing it after a few tries and getting to your feet.

The boat tipped, and you nearly fell flat on your face, if it weren’t for Stan’s strong arm around your frame. He grimaced, no doubt at the feeling of how cold you were again, and--

“Christ, Sixer, they’re lighter than I remember ‘em bein’...”

Ford felt that discomfort squirm tighter in his gut, and he turned away, frowning.

“Just… get them back to bed, please. I’m going to run more tests on their blood sample I took and see if I can make heads or tails of any of this mess. After they’re settled, take us to the nearest port.”

Ford left the two of you, then, pausing only when he heard you cry his name weakly.

...He walked out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

-

Stan’s POV

Getting someone so slick with sweat and unresponsive back into bed was a struggle, but, to make it easier on both of them, he just let them lay in his bunk. It was closer to the ground, in case they were gonna be sick again. It made sense.

More sense than Ford was making, that’s for damn sure.

Whatever that idiot genius was thinking, walking away from them when they clearly called for him was stupid. There was something going on, and Stan was gonna get to the bottom of it.

But first, to get to port, hopefully before the storm truly hit.

-

He never was very lucky in life. He’d lost every single scratcher he ever played, and he’d never won anything in games of BINGO unless he cheated. Hell, even that TV Gameshow ended up being a bust. So of course his luck carried over to things like trying to get to port before the storm hit.

He held tight to the wheel, trying to navigate his way to the nearest port despite how choppy and rough the seas were being. A spray of mist got in his eyes and he grunted, raising a hand to wipe the water from his face.

When he lowered his hand and opened his eyes again, there was someone standing at the head of the Stan-O-War II. Squinting against the spray, Stan called out to whoever it was, his voice catching in his throat when he saw your face turn to stare at him, pained and feverish. Your eyes were glowing an unnatural pink, like the color of Mabel’s favorite glitter glue. He grabbed for the walky-talky he kept on his hip while he and his brother were separated, holding the button on the side.

“Ford, come up on deck.”

There was brief static, and he heard an exasperated sigh. “Stanley, I can’t do this right now, I’m trying to find a cure to--”

“Stanford.” The name must have done the trick, because Ford quieted on the other end. “Come up on deck. Now. They’re up here.” Stanley heard the walky-talky drop to the table, or the floor, wherever, before the connection fizzled out. The next thing he knew, Ford was up on deck, holding hard onto the railing to keep from falling over.

Meanwhile, you were climbing up onto the railing, your bare feet sliding sideways on it as you held to the small crane attached for balance.

Ford shouted your name, trying to be heard over the rush of the water, the whip of the wind, and he ran to you. Stan had only a few seconds, he had to hold the boat steady, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t--

Your feet slipped out from under you, and--

Stan’s chest clenched painfully as he heard Ford’s desperate cry and he lunged for you.

-

Ford’s POV

He… he missed.

_ He missed. _

His hand had barely grazed yours, he’d been so close, and yet--

The boat rocked as Stan stopped the boat, no doubt to try and avoid running you over and pushing you underwater. Ford leaned over the edge, staring down into the dark, choppy waters. There was no sign of you anywhere. Nowhere. You were gone.

_ Gone. _

Panic settled in, and, if he didn’t have Stanley calling for him, he might have just jumped overboard in an attempt to save you.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and he turned, meeting Stan’s fearful gaze.

The two Pines twins shouted your name off the edges of the boat until their throats were sore, and then some.

But you were nowhere to be found.

-

Ford sat with his head in his hands at the kitchenette table, eyes burning with tears that he refused to let fall. He refused to let them fall because that would be a sign of mourning, and you  _ weren’t dead. _

With Stanley up on deck trying to keep the boat in a relative position to where you fell in, Ford was alone. For the first time in a long while, he felt...emptier. He still had his brother, and he was so, so glad for that fact, but…

Your face flashed in his mind and he grit his teeth, fingers curling in his grey hair.

“Ford!!”

His head snapped up when he heard Stanley’s frantic voice, and, fearing he might have fallen in as well, he tripped over himself running up the stairs and on deck. Once there, he looked around, fearing the worst, only to find… Stan was fine, still on deck. Irritation bubbled up in him, and he stormed over to his brother, a hand on his shoulder to turn him around...but the action died slowly, as did his irritation. Stanford looked where his brother was pointing, and there, out in the middle of the water, was an ethereal pink glow, visible even through the inky depths.

“What is that..?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Before they fell in, their eyes were glowin’ that same color. Y’think maybe they…?”

The two glanced at one another, and before either one of them could speak again, there was a chorus of song breaking through from the water. Just beneath the water’s surface, the water was teeming with mermaids, all swimming ‘round in circles around that glowing mass. Ford’s eyes were trained on the spot, however bright it might have been to stare at. Water clung to his glasses, obscuring his vision, but even still, he didn’t-- couldn’t-- tear his eyes away from that spot, not if there was a chance…

He squinted hard, leaning as far over the edge of the boat as he could, enough that Stanley grabbed his arm, tugging him back. He shrugged the hand off, searching for any sign, any… anything.

The pink glow underneath the waves grew brighter, and brighter, bright enough that Ford and Stan both had to shield their eyes from it… until it popped, like a bubble, and suddenly it was gone. Blinking back tears from the brightness, the salt water, and the emotion, Ford gripped the railing hard with all twelve fingers, knuckles white.

“What… what happened? Where did it go??”

“Sixer, look!” Ford swiveled to look where Stan was pointing. It looked like the mermaids were carrying something under the water, supporting it and keeping it from sinking. A single ray of hope lanced through his chest, and he turned to Stan.

“Follow them!”

The singing only grew louder, the mermaid’s eyes aglow beneath the water, and maybe it was just his hopefulness or his imagination, but he could’ve sworn that the storm was less severe than it had been mere moments ago.

Stanford smacked a six-fingered hand to his forehead. “Of course! They must have some slight sway over the changes in weather patterns. It’s told that mermaids warned sailors of storms… perhaps--”

“Hey, nerd out later! Look!”

A familiar hoodie, clinging to a pale figure in the water. Ford about jumped out to you, he was so excited.

“Hurry, Stanley!” he said, an urgency in his voice that wasn’t normally there. He was normally so composed, but after having thought he lost you, well… let’s just say his composure was a bit blown at this point.

Once the boat was close enough to shore, Ford leaned far out past the railing, looking you over.

His eyes widened.

The clouds above parted, casting sunlight directly on you. Your skin was glistening, with water and with something far more mystical, and, past your typical hoodie, below, you had a tail. A  _ mermaid’s _ tail. What could have caused this, though? Didn’t matter, he needed to see you, and fast.

Once Stanley stopped the engine and dropped anchor, Ford was out and off of the boat, his brother giving a yell at him to slow down. He didn’t, of course, far too busy scrambling down the ladder and into the shallow waters. They were cold, but he ignored it, wading his way over to where you lay, head resting against a few large rocks.

“Hey!” The mermaids around you suddenly turned, looking on the defensive, until they saw who it was approaching.

“Stanford Pines… Your mate, I assume?” one mermaid with long, blonde hair asked, and Ford was so relieved, he didn’t even realize what they’d truly said.

“Yes, yes, are they alright??” Your face scrunched up slightly as the noise began to wake you, and Ford began patting around his jacket for his pen light.

“I take it that they stepped on a Sea Mer-chin, thus the transformation… They are fine now, just resting.”

“Sea mer-chin? Do they happen to be glittery and pink-looking?” When the merfolk looked confused by the term ‘glittery’, he backtracked. “Ah, shiny? Shiny and pink?”

“Yes. They hold a powerful magical toxin that turns those stuck by its barbs into a merfolk, like your mate here.” This time the term ‘mate’ did strike Ford, and he choked slightly, fumbling with his pen light. He nearly dropped it in the water, only just managing to catch it a few inches above the water’s surface.

“M-mate? I-I don’t, uh…” Wait, this was stupid, there were more important things to be worrying about. He shook his head. “Magical toxin, you say? Would you happen to know the cure…?” The mermaid speaking to him nodded. “Excellent! Then if you can tell me, I will gather the ingredients, and--”

“The ingredients are not so easily obtained by a human, I am afraid… Many of them are deep beneath the ocean’s surface.” Ford deflated slightly at that, and looked down at you, shivering in the water. “However… It would be simple for one of us to do it. You have done much for the magical creatures in this world, Stanford Pines.” The mermaid set a hand on your shoulder, looking down at you fondly for a moment before turning back to Ford. “I will gather the ingredients you cannot reach.”

“I… Thank you. Thank you so much,” he said quietly, looking down at you and feeling a powerful emotion well up in his chest.

“We will leave you now. Care for your mate, they are sure to be...perturbed, by this sudden change.” With that, the group of merfolk swam away, leaving Ford hovering over you. He called your name hesitantly, then, just for good measure, pinched himself on the leg to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Ow…”

“Ow…”

You both said it at the same time, and as your eyes fluttered open, he felt that emotion in his chest burst forth. He swept your top half out of the water, fingers curling into your wet hoodie as he buried his face in your shoulder.

  
“...Ford?” He choked softly on a sob when you called his name, and he felt tears welling up when your arms wrapped so gently around his back. “Ford, what… what happened? I remember you pulling out those spines, then--” You froze in his arms, and your breathing picked up, and when he pulled away, he saw you were staring at where your legs used to be, eyes widened. “I… wh-what hap--”

“I’ll explain everything,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and pulling your face into his chest. You looked up at him and frowned slightly.

“...Why are you crying?”

Ah, he hadn’t noticed, but the tears had managed to fall, dripping down his cheeks from underneath his glasses. He quickly raised a hand to wipe them away, but was stopped by your hands wrapping gently around his wrists. Despite how gentle you were being, you were strong, surprisingly so.

“You… I watched you go overboard, and I thought--  _ we  _ thought that you were…  _ gone _ .” Something happened with his voice, like it didn’t want to come from his throat with that last word...gone. He chokes on it a bit, and you’re looping your arms around his neck, pulling him down into the water with you.

“I’m okay, I’m… I mean, I’m a mermaid now, I guess? But I’m okay, Ford. I’m not going anywhere.” His arms curl around you tightly, all but crushing you against his chest, and he feels a little bit of that fear subside. You move your hand up his back to thread through his hair, and a soft, tired groan slips past his lips unbidden. He hears you chuckle, and the situation is all so absurd, he can’t help but do the same.

“Hey!”

Stan’s voice breaks the comfortable silence and the two of you part, turning to look back at the boat where Stan is leaning against the railing, a look of tension and uncertainty on his face.

“They’re okay!” Ford shouted to him, and he watched as his brother’s tension slowly melted away, and he laughed.

“What are the fucking odds? We wanted a mermaid migration, and now we’ve got our own merfolk!” Ford barks out a laugh, so similar to his brother’s that he thinks again about how similar yet different they are… that is, until he noticed how quiet you’d become. You were shimmying further down into the water, swallowing thickly when it finally covered you up to your neck. It was still so ingrained in him to keep you from going under that his hands flew out to your shoulders, but you held his wrists steady, giving him a comforting smile. (Though, now that he thinks about it, it should be  _ him _ comforting  _ you _ , not the other way around.)

“Sorry, I just… couldn’t really breathe, haha.”

“Of course. Merfolk need water… which is probably why you were drinking so much of it on board.” He smacked a hand to his forehead, groaning. “I cannot believe I didn’t pick up on that sooner… The thing you stepped on thrived in sea water, which meant the normal water was making you sick…”

“...You know that sounds completely insane, right? That this,” you say, gesturing down to yourself with a trembling hand, “is crazy weird, right?”

“It is. But.. you’re okay with weird, aren’t you?” he asks, and wow, there’s a lot more vulnerability in that question than he expected there to be. He hears Stan approaching from behind him, and he sighs, moving to pull away. But then your hand interlocks with his, gently, and you bring his knuckles to your lips to press a kiss there. He sucks in a breath, feeling emotional all over again, and by the time Stanley has made it to the two of you, he’s quick to turn away, wiping at his eyes beneath his glasses.

“You’re alive! Jesus Christ, we thought you were a goner!” Two strong arms wrapped around your torso, scooping you up out of the water with ease. You flailed and held onto him, laughing.

“Stan, c’mon--”

“What kinda idiot stands on the railing of a boat out at sea anyway?!” He pulled away, looking slightly angry, then, and you frowned.

“They didn’t know what they were doing, most likely due to the toxin in their system…” Ford sighed and turned back to the two of you, a hand on his chin. “Please put them down before they suffocate, Stanley.”

Stan gruffed under his breath but carefully lowered you back into the water with such care that Ford had to look away, six fingers curling into a fist.

“Alright, there ya go… So! How’s it feel bein’ the legend itself?” his twin asked with a laugh, and you gave a slightly tense one in return.

“It’s, um… new?? I mean, I don’t think I’ve even processed it yet…” Ford was looking around, everywhere but at you and Stan talking. He watched as your tail flipped anxiously in the water, splashing water on the three of you.

“Heh, well, at least now you’ve got a test subject for all your pokin’ and proddin’, huh Sixer?” Stan elbowed his brother, and Ford stiffened slightly, chancing a look at you to see that you were watching him worriedly. He sighed.

“It would be beneficial to me to take notes on how those urchin spines have changed your physiology… and how you differ from the typical merfolk.”

“Are you saying that I’m weird even for a merfolk?” you ask, arms crossing, and he shoots you a little smile.

“Only in the best of ways.”

You didn’t seem quite placated by that, so, with a little sigh, he sloshed his way through the water over to you again and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. It was so endearing the way your whole face lit up and the fins at the end of your tail did a little happy wiggle, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Thank you,” you said, decidedly pleased, and he and Stanley both snorted a laugh. “But how are we gonna...y’know, fix this? Some magic cure?”

“Yes, well. As it turns out, a few of the ingredients can be found on the islands coming up…”

Stan moved to sit on the biggest rock next to you with an ‘oomph’, looking up with a brow cocked. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

“...but the rest can only be found deep in the depths of the ocean.” Stan groaned, and Ford was quick to hold his hands up, gesturing to where the merfolk had swam off to. “But! The merfolk have so kindly offered to get those for us.” His brother narrowed his eyes, and he could just tell that there was a ‘what’s the catch’ coming soon.

“That’s great, but… How long do I have to be like this until you’re able to cook up a cure…?” Your voice was filled with an uncertainty that he didn’t like, but Stan put a hand on your shoulder, so he turned away, frowning.

“I’m not sure. The sooner we can get moving again, the sooner we can get the ingredients.”

“How’re we gonna go anywhere with them like this?” Stan asked, giving your shoulder a squeeze ( _ no _ , Stanford wasn’t watching the two of you from the corner of his eye) before standing upright, glancing around in the water as if searching for something.

“Well, they are a merfolk… They could always swim, I suppose.” Ford turns to look at you more fully, and you fix him with a look of uncertainty.

“I mean, I can swim, sure, but can I swim as fast as the boat…?” you offered up weakly, and Ford sighed, watching as you curled in a bit on yourself at the sound. “Okay…” A deep breath, then a nod. “Okay, yeah, I’ll swim. I’ll do my best to keep up. How hard can it be, with...this?” You lifted your new tail up out of the water, the minimal light glinting off of the few scales that were on your body here and there. Unlike a typical merfolk, whose tails were covered in scales, yours was smooth, like skin, but it was an exotic color, and it shimmered it the light. Ford fought off the urge to reach out and touch it. Stanley, however, had no trouble, reaching out and grabbing one of your tail fins, and Ford tamped down the jealousy he felt flare in his chest.

“Yeah, look’it this thing! I bet you could swim circles around the Stan-O-War II no problem!” And here Stan was again, encouraging you, and you actually looked relieved by it. Ford needed to get back on board before he said something that was on his mind.

“Well, come on, then. Let’s get back on the boat and start out--”

“Already?” you asked, and your voice sounded small, and Ford watched as Stan released your tail, letting it fall back into the water with a wet splash.

“If you want to be cured, then we need to get moving… Come on.” He motioned for his brother to follow, and as he turned back to the boat, he could hear Stan following closely behind.

There was a splash, and, when Ford turned around, you were nowhere to be seen, leaving him with only his brother’s disappointed expression and his own turbulent feelings to keep him company.

-

“So, the ingredients we need to collect are all listed here. I hope finding this thing called a ‘Dum-Dum’ fruit won’t be so difficult… I don’t want to spend the rest of our time on the water doing this.”

“Wow, you really are out to make them feel terrible, aren’t you?” Stan’s voice made Ford’s head snap up, gripping his pen tightly in a six-fingered hand while he turned to look at his brother. He wasn’t smiling-- hell, he hadn’t in the last few days, really, not since you’d swam off and not returned… He was too busy to worry about that, though. He needed to focus on this cure so they could move on. But Stanley bringing this up was making things difficult… Everything seemed to be more difficult, lately.

“Stanley. Now isn’t the time. I’m very busy trying to--” Stan cut him off.

“To make your datemate or whatever the fuck you wanna call ‘em feel guilty about an accident? Yeah, you sure are.” Ford started clicking the pen in and out rapidly, breathing out a sigh through his nose.

“No, trying to  _ help them get back to normal _ so we can move on from this.”

“Nah, it ain’t just about the merfolk thing, you’ve been actin’ weird for a while now, and I wanna know why.” Ford clicked the pen one final time, then placed it as gently as he could manage while so angry down on the table. “What could they have done to possibly make you so pissed off at ‘em that you’d  _ ignore them calling you for help _ ?”

“I didn’t… ignore them…” Ford said, lamely, knowing that he was lying and knowing that Stan knew that, too. He sighed, “Look, can we  _ please _ just try and get back to the cure?”

“Nuh uh, Stanford. You’re gonna answer me. I mean, do you have any idea how you’ve been makin’ ‘em feel?”

“Them?? Do you two have any idea how you’ve been making  _ me _ feel, Stanley??” Stan’s eyes widened, apparently not expecting such a direct (and confusing) question. Ford huffed out a breath and turned away. “Forget it, it’s not worth bringing up right now.”

“Oh no you don’t.” A heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he whirled around to glare at Stan, hands curled into fists. “Look, whatever it is, I’m sure we can talk it out like adults, Ford. Just quit leavin’ us in the dark all the fuckin’ time!”

“I just--!” He stopped… and he sighed again, raising a hand to rub at his tired eyes from underneath his glasses. “Truthfully, I haven’t been honest with you.” He ignored Stan’s snort of ‘no shit’ and continued. “I’ve noticed, you know. I’m not blind. About your… advances.”

“...What?” Stan’s voice was quieter now, and Ford knew he was onto something.

“Advances, Stanley. Toward them.” Stan opened his mouth, but Ford talked over him, pressing onward hurriedly. “And- and I understand it, but I don’t, because… Because I thought that they and I had something, but… but the more time you two spend together lately, the more I’m starting to wonder if they’re even happy with me…” His eyes cast to the side, and Stan’s hand dropped from his shoulder. “I’m not the best when it comes to physical and emotional interaction. And nothing about relationships seems logical at all, so I end up feeling lost. I just…” He sucked in a breath, chancing a look at his brother’s face. What he saw there made him stop, mouth snapping shut for a second as something churned in his gut. “...What?”

Stan opened his mouth, presumably to say something, then shut it again. He shook his head, shaggy grey hair falling in front of his eyes a bit until he raised a hand to swipe it to the side.

“You’re a fuckin’ moron, Sixer.” And Ford couldn’t help it, he bristled, shoulders rising and nails digging into his palms, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Stan held up a hand, silencing him. “No, really, you are. You seriously think that I have a thing for them?? Name  _ one _ instance where I gave you that impression.”

Feeling very put on the spot, Ford frowned, picking at the edges of his memory to try and come up with the best, most suitable instance. “Well… There was the two of you dancing on deck, a while back.”

“Y’mean like how I used to dance with Ma, back when I still lived at home?” Stan folded his arms and Ford wilted slightly, searching for another example.

“What about all that talk when I was tending to their injuries from the sea murchin? You called them ‘pumpkin’--”

“Like I call Mabel?”

Ford frowned, “...You just, you seem to be touching them an awful lot lately, and joking around with them, and, I thought, perhaps, you were…” He lost steam, settling into silence as Stan sighed.

“Look, and I’m sorry about that, if it made you uncomfortable… Y’ shoulda said somethin’. But all that contact was familial and nothin’ more.” Stan’s face took on a rose tinge as he glanced away, reaching up and tugging on his now longer hair. “T’be honest, I think of them more like a...sibster? Is that the term? Whatever, as a sibling.” Then, with a bit of a smirk, added, “...-in-law, of course.” Ford felt his cheeks heat at the implications, and Stan sighed. “Can’t believe you actually thought I had the hots for your ‘mate--”

“Please don’t call them that, it’s embarrassing--”

“--because I was openin’ up to ‘em a bit more!” Then, after a moment of silence, Stan sighed. “I’ll.. back off, though. Y’know, try and keep more to myself.”

“Stanley… you don’t need to do that--”

“I don’t wanna do nothin’ to make you think that I’m vyin’ for your favorite person.”

“No, Stanley, I…” he sighed, “I was wrong. And foolish, to think that way.. And I’m sorry. I should have come to you about it sooner. I don’t want you to have to stop being who you are around them just because of me…”

“... That isn’t all you’re worried about, is it?” Ford’s shoulders hunched slightly, and Stan sighed. “Trust me, they’re not interested in me like that. I mean, I guess I can’t speak for them, but c’mon! They’re so into you that there’s no one else on their radar! Not even a little blip!” And Ford wanted to feel comforted by those words, but unless it was coming from you yourself, he just… he couldn’t be sure. Stan must’ve been able to sense that, be it from Ford’s expression and body language or whatever, because he clapped a hand onto each of Ford’s shoulders, looking him directly in the eye. “Talk to them, Sixer. You gotta. Or else this--” he gesticulated in the air vaguely, and Ford watched it, like it held the answers. “--is gonna destroy your relationship. I can promise ya that.”

“I… We have much more to be worried about right now. The anomalies in Europe, the migration--”

“Are you honestly sayin’ those things are more important to you than they are…?”

And Ford had thought he had come a long way, a long way from being the brainwashed (though not quite literally) fool following Bill’s orders… but those old feelings of ‘this is all I am’ and ‘this is all I have’ resurfaced, only for a second, and his hand flew out to grip Stan’s arm, his eyes narrowing.

“...No. They’re… they’re more important. I just…” He sighed, shaky and deep, and released his hold on his brother’s arm, and he felt Stan squeeze his shoulders before letting go. “...I don’t want to ruin your dreams of sailing around the world.”

“Whoa whoa, you ain’t ruining shit, Poindexter!” Then, more softly, Stan sighed. “I just wanna see you happy. That’s all I want, Stanford. ...It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” And Ford can’t help but look up at Stan then, when he says something so emotionally charged. The depth of that statement held a thousand apologies in it, and Ford felt something in his chest tighten, then loosen slightly. “And they make you happy. Even when you’re bein’ an idiot,” he said, a fondness to his voice that told Ford he didn’t actually mean the insult.

He chuckled, “Yes, well… I can only hope I can make it up to them somehow.”

“You can start by tellin’ them the truth, y’know.”

“I could… but I’m--”  _ afraid of what they’ll say _ , “--not sure when the right moment would be.”

Stan snorted, “I’d say right now, but I haven’t seen ‘em for a couple days…” Ford’s gut churned at that. Truthfully, he’d been too busy trying to avoid them and get to work on the cure to notice their absence. Guilt clawed at his insides. “Last I saw of ‘em was when they swam off after we left for the boat from that island.” He must have noticed the look on Ford’s face, because he backpedaled quickly, chuckling nervously. “Hey, I mean, I’m sure they’re just with the rest of the merfolk, helping look for the ingredients, right?”

It wasn’t very reassuring, and Ford sighed, raising a hand to press against his eyes. “I could very well have botched up everything I’ve been working for with them… I don’t know how on earth I am meant to fix it now that they’re avoiding me.”

“Well,” Stan turned Ford around and smacked him on the back, making his twin flinch. “Better get to work then, huh? Some nice, small gesture should work for now.”

Ford had just the idea.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another instance of the word 'canoodling', things are talked about, Ford gets to study a merfolk at great length, and a promise is made.

He had the idea, it was just a matter of figuring out exactly where McGucket had put the underwater speaker. Since he’d built one into the boat itself, Ford had worried that, perhaps, he’d gotten rid of it altogether… However, a thorough search of the supply area yielded one underwater, water-proof speaker, complete with cord to hook it up to something to provide sound. It was a simple thing, hooking it up to his laptop in order to play music underwater for them.

The first song that popped up was something catchy that he remembered them liking on the radio, and so he left it on, letting it play through the water. He couldn’t hear the lyrics very well, but surely you could… hopefully. If his theory was correct, anyway.

Yet as the song came to an end, still, you were nowhere to be found. He leaned out over the railing in search, but found nothing. He turned around and leaned against the side with a sigh.

“You are quite obvious, Stanford Pines.” He startled slightly, turning hopefully, but his expression fell when he saw the same mermaid he’d spoken to before. She hid a laugh behind her hand and swam closer to the edge of the boat, keeping pace with it. “Not who you were hoping for?”

“No, I, ah…” he trailed off, embarrassed, and the mermaid tittered behind her hand.

“It’s quite alright, I understand. Your mate has been acting much the same.” His expression must have portrayed some sort of shock, because next she asked, “Does that really, truly surprise you?” Then she shook her head. “Such silly creatures, you humans are.”

“Yes, well…” He cleared his throat. “How goes the ingredient search?” Changing the subject, he turned back around to face the mermaid, who eyed him for a moment before smiling.

“It goes well. I have a few for you now, if you would like them. Just keep them in sea water.” Ford grabbed the sample jars, made of clear plastic, to keep them from breaking, and screwed off the lids, waiting patiently for… well… He wasn’t sure exactly  _ how _ the mermaid was going to get it to him, but as he stood at the edge of the boat, the railing between him and the water, he nearly jumped out of his skin as he watched the mermaid swim under the water, then leap out a fair enough distance that she could reach him.

It was quite impressive, and he found himself wondering if maybe you could do that… but as something cold and wet was dropped into the jar in his hand, he found himself chuckling at the absurdity of it all. She did it twice more, and soon, Ford had jars full of mermaid scales, a glowing seaweed, and something that looked like hair, but it twitched and writhed on the bottom of the jar. He held them up and looked at them in the sunlight, an astonished smile on his face.

“Fascinating…”

“Indeed.” He looked down and saw the mermaid looking up at him, a knowing smile on her face. “So, Stanford Pines, the next island coming up should be the one that holds one of the ingredients. I haven’t spent much time on land there, obviously...but I’ve heard that the Dum-Dum fruit is sweetest when it hits the ground.” He made a mental note of that, so many questions spawning forth in his mind, but he didn’t get the chance to ask. “When you do pull off to the next island, perhaps you should try spending some more time with your mate?”

That word! Why was everyone so insistent on using that word to describe your relationship with him? Maybe it was okay for the mermaids, but even Stan had done it.

His embarrassment must have shown on his face, because the mermaid was laughing now, sinking under the water to do a little twirl before reemerging, hair still magically looking as though it were dry. “You are a funny man, Stanford Pines. No wonder they are so fond of you.”

“W- what, have they said something?” The mermaid tittered and splashed a wave of water up at Ford, who only barely managed to avoid being soaked. “Hey!” His face was flushed and he leaned over the railing, glaring lightly down at the mer, who was still giggling to herself.

“Foolish man. You need only ask them yourself. I shall go fetch them.”

“Wait, no--” Too quickly, the mermaid ducked under the water and swam off, underneath the boat, from the looks of it, and off the other side.

“Hey, Sixer, we gonna stop at this island up here?” Stan asked, leaning out of the ‘control room’ of sorts so Ford could hear him, no doubt. Then he snorted, “What’s up with you? You gettin’ a sunburn? Your face is all red.”

“No, Stanley, I’m  _ fine _ , thank you.”

The urge to flee was very strong, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Not from Stan’s teasing, no, but from… you. It would have been the first time you’ve spoken, really, since he secluded himself… and he knew he had a lot to make up for. He just wasn’t quite sure where to begin.

The song on the underwater speaker changed, a slower beat that played from his laptop speakers, as well. He wondered if you’d be dancing, if you could. But before he could try and envision that, he saw two shadows approaching the boat, and he glanced back at Stan. Given his lack of reaction, he concluded it must be two merfolk… which meant…

Your head poked out of the water for only half a second, long enough for your eyes to meet, and you immediately ducked under the water again.

He sighed, a little huff of a laugh escaping him. He supposed that could’ve gone  _ worse _ , though he’s not quite sure how. Judging from the shadow under the water, you were still there. The second shadow surfaced, and the mermaid from before was there, chuckling to herself.

“I found them! They didn’t stray out of sight of the boat. I think they are missing you Pines men.” A splash came from the first shadow, where you were hiding, and she dodged expertly. “So silly… Stop at this island ahead. One of the ingredients grows there,” she said gently, then, louder than she’d been speaking before, “And I know you want to examine your mate to make sure they’re okay!” She giggled as Ford’s face colored, and he frowned down at her in the water, muttering under his breath as Stanley laughed from behind the boat’s controls.

“Yeah he does!”

“Stanley!”

The mermaid tittered as yet another splash of water came from your tail, this time actually breaking the water’s surface. Ford could tell how shiny it looked under the light, glistening like it was covered in crushed gemstones. Then it disappeared under the water again, and your eyes met again, though you were huddled in your hoodie, hiding just barely above the water’s surface. He opened his mouth to say something, but you swam off, heading to the island.

“Oh well, perhaps you two can have a heart to hearts once you hit land,” the mermaid said, with a small shrug of her delicate-looking shoulders. With that, she swam off ahead of the boat, toward the island Stan was steering them toward.

Meanwhile, Ford prepared himself mentally for the conversation that was sure to come.

-

“You humans and your science amuse me so! Tell me, what is that called again?”

The mermaid, who ended up introducing herself as Meridia, held up the end of Ford’s stethoscope with a curious smile, looking up at him. He grinned back, holding it out to her so she could put it on around her neck, like he had done.

“A stethoscope. You use it to listen to your heartbeat.” He watched as she put the ends into her ears, as he’d done just moments prior, and pressed the small, circular end to her chest. Her face spread into a wide smile, and her tail flapped in the water excitedly.

“Fascinating! I could listen to any seventeen of my hearts with this!”

“Fascinating indeed,” Ford said, holding his hand out for the instrument. Meridia gently removed and put the device into Ford’s hands, smiling at him kindly, which he returned.

“I suppose you’re done with me, then?” she asked, and Ford picked up his notebook, which was placed on the safety of the sands outside of the tide pool. He flipped through the pages of notes he’d taken and, with a small nod, snapped it closed. “Perfect!” She clapped her hands together, tail swishing in the water. “Then I suppose it is your mate’s turn. I shall fetch them--”

“Actually I, ah… Maybe they would rather not…?” The mermaid frowned slightly, and he pressed onward. “I-I only mean that they might be sensitive about their condition since, you know…” It wasn’t a total lie, he supposed, but he still felt bad for telling it with the way Meridia’s face scrunched up.

“Hmm… No, I shall most definitely fetch them. You stay right here, Stanford Pines.” With that said, she dragged herself through the shallows and out to the open ocean, surprisingly not going far. He felt a twinge of guilt when he realized that you had apparently been watching from the water. She ducked underneath the water, and he saw vague gesturing from beneath, then there was a darker shadow swimming his way. It was less graceful and coordinated, and he knew without having to see your face that it was you.

When you breached the surface, it was with a gasp, even though you were capable of breathing underwater and probably weren’t holding your breath. Probably just a lingering instinct from the time you were human, he reasoned, but all reasoning flew out the window when he saw the look on your face.

He’d never seen you look so uncertain in all your time with him, and it  _ hurt _ .

You bit your bottom lip, glancing away, perhaps thinking about how you could get out of it… before swimming toward him. You dragged your lower half through the sand, wincing slightly as you got caught on the sand a bit. With a huff you got over the lip, and you were in the tide pool with a little splash, the water washing up Ford’s knees to his thighs.

There was an awkward silence, and he cleared his throat, dragging your attention from where you’d been staring at the sand to his face.

“I… I appreciate you being willing to do this, my dear,” he said, and the pet name did something funny to your face, made it scrunch up slightly, enough that he worried perhaps you disliked it now. You dipped your head under the water, staring up at him through the ripples for a moment before you resurfaced, another little gasp of breath past your lips.

“It’s fine… don’t worry about it.” Then, much quieter, “It’s the least I can do, after getting like this…”

And in that moment, Stan’s words came back to him, about how he was making you feel guilty, and he saw it in your face, and he just--

His hands were moving before he could register it, and you held rigidly still, allowing him to cup your jaw in his hands, thumbs smoothing over your wet skin. He swallowed, “...It was an accident.” He said it gently, but still, you turned away from him, chin still against his palm, but you were no longer looking at him. “I mean it,” he said, more assuredly this time, and you glanced back at him, brows furrowed. “It could have easily been me, had I taken my boots off like I was planning… So… So don’t feel bad about it. Okay?”

You nodded, though he wasn’t very convinced. Steeling himself for rejection, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, so much cooler than it used to be. You went rigid in his hands, tail ramrod straight in the water for just a moment, long enough for him to doubt. But then you relaxed, and your hands came up to rest over his, still cupping your cheeks.

“Ford, I--” You paused, licked your lips, then sighed. “...Did I… Did I do something wrong…?”

“...What?” He blinked, slowly releasing his hold on you, and you must’ve panicked, because you held onto his hands, didn’t allow him to pull them away.

“I- I just mean, you’ve been acting so strangely, and… and I was beginning to worry that… maybe I’d done something to upset you…”

And this was it, Ford realized. His one true chance to explain...but he felt that fear nagging at him.  _ What if you had an answer to give that he didn’t like? _

“...Ford. Stanford, you can… you can tell me anything. I meant that…” Twelve fingers curled into fists, and he hissed a sigh out from between his teeth.

It was now or never, he supposed.

“...I had noticed, you know,” he said quietly, yet somehow he still startled you. He sat down on the sandy bank, planting his feet so he wouldn’t slip into the water any further, and, when he glanced up at you from the corner of his eye, he noticed he had your full attention. “You and Stanley have been… growing closer.” He glanced again, and your face was full of confusion… but then, recognition and realization began to dawn there, and he hurriedly continued, hoping to get this all out before you could interrupt him. “A-and… and if you have feelings for him, then that’s fine. I understand. I just, I thought that perhaps you and I had…” Had what? Something special? Special enough that he couldn’t put a name to it? He’d never even bothered to ask to date you. He looked down at his fist, clenching and unclenching nervously. “...I had thought that, perhaps, you and I were…  _ something _ .”

“Ford--”

“But if I misunderstood, then… then I can--”

He’s silenced by a yelp of surprise when you grabbed his ankle and pulled him into the water of the tide pool. He spluttered and sat up, wiping the water from his glasses the best he could with his fingers, then wiping at his eyes. When he opened them, you were directly in front of him, the vagueness of your expression tilted downward into something resembling upset. You were so close to him, your chests nearly touching, your tail between his bent knees. Your hands were still on his ankle, though they slowly slid up to his knees, and he suppressed a shiver.

You were silent for a long while, just staring at him with those narrowed eyes of yours that made him want to lean in and kiss you… but now wasn’t the time for that. Not when you were getting ready to break up with him.  _ There was nothing so official to break up anyway. _

“Ford… I love your brother so much.” He felt like he received a punch to the gut, and he turned his face away, only to find your soft, surprisingly strong hand there to turn it back to look at you. “In a familial way. Platonically, or whatever… He’s like the big brother I never had. But don’t tell him that, he’ll let it go to his head.” Ford couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at that, and suddenly your lips were on his, kissing him like you hadn’t in a while. He barely had time to react, to even kiss back, before you pulled away again, your voice hushed. “I love you, Ford. You’re the only one I want. I’ve… I’ve missed you.”

“Oh…” How eloquent, Ford, care to try again? But he couldn’t, all the foolishness had come to a head, and suddenly, he felt, very, very foolish, indeed. He sucked in a breath, feeling his eyes prickling at the corners, and he thanked whatever was watching (hopefully nothing) that his face was already wet. “I suppose I’m the ass in this situation, huh?” It was so unusual for him to curse, because the look on your face turned shocked for a moment, but then you were laughing, not at him, but… well, he couldn’t help but chuckle along with you.

“Yes, Ford. You are.” Then you frowned, looking him over. “Why didn’t you just talk to me about it sooner…?” He groaned softly, resting his forehead against your shoulder so he wouldn’t have to look at you right then.

“I was… afraid of your answer. What if you’d said it was true, that you  _ did _ have feelings for Stanley…? I just… I didn’t want to hear that…”

“Even so, relationships are based on trust, and… it sure sounds like you didn’t trust me…” His head snapped up then, and you reclaimed his lips in a kiss, surprising him enough that his hands moved to grab your shoulders. You tasted like sea salt, not entirely unpleasantly so, either. “You have to trust me, Ford. ...I’m not going anywhere. Even after death, I’m gonna turn into some ghost that haunts the Stan-O-War II and the Mystery Shack.” And maybe it was just those words, that declaration of spending the rest of your life with him, that did it, but he felt compelled to kiss you again, crushing your upper body against his chest.

“Trusting people was always difficult, after certain events… but, I do. Trust you, I mean…” Your foreheads rested together, yours much cooler than his own, and he felt you smile against his lips, prompting him to kiss you again. And again. And again. Your hands moved from his face to push up his shirt so your hands could smooth over his stomach, and he choked on air. “L-love, I, um… A-are you sure we should be--”

  
“Call me that again.”

He hesitantly said your name, and you shook your head, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, and he shivered. “Love..?” You trailed kisses down his cheek, down his jaw, nipping at the spot right below his ear, and he groaned, embarrassingly loud, his hands digging into your shoulders. “B-but Stanley--”

“--is around the other side of the island by now,” you murmur, suckling at his pulse point and humming softly under your breath when he bucked against you in the water. “We have time.”

He glanced around to see that Stanley had, in fact, moved the boat out of view, perhaps under the pretense that something like this were to happen. Maybe Meridia went and told Stan to move it…? Either way, he was grateful, because the thought of being caught in a compromising situation by his own brother made him cringe inwardly a little.

***NSFW START***

“...Okay,” he finally said, after some serious thinking, and you pulled away to look him in the eyes, yours slightly narrowed, as though you were seeking for the truth behind his answer. But it was all there, on display, and when he pulled you into a searing kiss, deciding to just say ‘fuck it’, he swallowed the moan you loosed into his mouth.

He carefully guided you so that you were laying on your back against the sand, and he moved to tug on your hoodie, but your hands stopped him. Your face was flushed, and you shook your head. And that was fine! He could do this (surely) without taking it off, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Why not…?” he asked, gently, and you shivered slightly. Perhaps you were cold? He was beginning to feel the coolness of the water seep into him, as well. But you didn’t say. What you did do, though, was pull your hood aside, away from your neck, to reveal--

...Gills? They were the same pastel color of your tail on the inside, little slots in your skin that fluttered with your attempts at breath. Without even thinking, eyes wide with awe, he raised a hand to brush against them, and you shuddered.

That was… an interesting reaction. He did it again, thumb brushing down along them, instead of against them, and he felt himself smile when you let out a small noise of… something. It couldn’t have been anything but pleasure, he decided.

With your tail between his legs, his knees digging into the sand on either side, he pressed his body hard against yours, trailing kisses down your cheek and jaw to your neck. His breath must’ve felt incredibly warm against your gills, yet you still shuddered, gripping onto his own sweatshirt tighter. Then his tongue slid out, testing the waters, so to speak, and ran along the top, just above your gills, and you moaned his name.

“Show me,” he said, voice becoming gruff with arousal, and you nodded this time when his hands moved to the bottom hem of your hoodie. It was pulled up and off, and he felt himself flush under your intense gaze. You weren’t wearing a shirt, or a binder, for that matter, and… were those gills on your ribs, as well? One brush of his fingertips along them told him that yes, indeed they were.

So that explained how you were able to breathe with your neck out of the water… He wondered just how efficient your breathing was like this, with one set in the water and one out.

“Ford, wh-what--”

Your voice sounded just a tinge panicked, and when he came back around from his brief thoughts into your breathing capabilities, it was to the feeling of something tugging at his shorts, pulling him flush against your body. One glance down, and he felt his stomach churn with an uncomfortable heat. Your opening was exposed, parted slightly open, and there were--  _ God _ , there were  _ tentacles _ of all things, coming from inside, grabbing the fabric of his pants and pulling him in close. He lowered his hand to rub at your slick entrance, a tentacle wrapping gently around his thumb and extra finger, and pulling his other fingers inside.

The reaction was immediate. Your head threw back into the sand, sending some cascading down onto your shoulders as a keening moan spilled past your lips. He hurriedly leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, an attempt to silence you so that not every living thing within five miles could hear you. He thrust his fingers, feeling the slick yet ridged internal walls and shuddered.

He wondered what it would feel like around his cock.

He gently separated the tentacles from his fingers and withdrew,  _ feeling _ your whine of loss of contact, and he shushed you gently.

“Shhh shh love, I’m just taking my pants off--” He had them down around his hips but, clearly, that wasn’t quick enough for you, because you pulled the fronts down until his semi-hard cock came free. You wrapped your hands around it, pumping over it, and with every little twist of the wrist around his head, he grew harder and bolder in your grasp. By the time he was thrusting into your hand with every stroke, you both moved in close, him scooting his hips up your tail until--

“ _ Son of a-- nngh _ !” Ford groaned and dropped his head hard against your shoulder, shuddering violently as the tentacles from your entrance grabbed hold of his dick, pulling and guiding it into the wet, slick sensation of your opening. It was all so sudden, and he could do so little to stop it. He looked up at you, worried that he might have hurt you.

The look on your face alone nearly made him reach orgasm.

Your mouth was open, chest heaving with silent breath, eyes screwed shut, a deep flush reaching from the tips of your ears to your shoulders. You shuddered against him, ridged inner walls of your entrance squeezing around him, and he did the same, watching as you pried your eyes open to look at him.

“Ford,  _ Ford _ ,  _ please-- _ ” 

He didn’t know what to do, his mind racing amidst the pleasurable sensations and struggling to come up with anything coherent. His hands moved from your shoulders, one trailing upward to card through your hair, the other lowering to brush his thumb across the side of your breast. You arched into the touch, and his mind finally supplied him something to do:

_ Move. _

He pulled his hips back, the tentacles wrapped around him struggling to keep him in place, and the slide against your inner walls created a delicious sensation that licked its way down his spine, settling in his lower belly like a liquid heat. The pace he set up was erratic, and he already felt like he was chasing his own end. Your nails dug into his hooded sweatshirt and pulled on it, crying out, and he once again crashed his lips against yours, no doubt bruising, but not really caring at that moment.

He swallowed up your moans and cries and pleas, swallowed them all down as they added to the fire burning in his gut, and a growl pulled from deep in his throat as he came, spilling inside of you. He kept up the pace, though, only stopping once you let loose a wail and your tail thrashed beneath him, arms crushing him into you.

As the two of you came down from your respective highs, Ford carefully detached himself from you, sucking in a breath and letting it out as a deep groan as he tried to get the small tentacles to release him. After a few minutes of careful touch (during which your tail thrashed in the water, overstimulated), they retreated back into your entrance, and it closed up, trapping his spend inside. He quickly pulled up his pants and leaned up to press a kiss to your lips, then your cheek, your jaw, your neck, feeling a thrill go through him when you let out a weak moan as he planted a soft kiss against your gills.

***NSFW END***

[ _ NSFW TLDR; Ford, after having their little heart-to-hearts (as the mermaid put it), ends up having some experimental and quick merfolk sex with Reader. _ ]

The two of you laid together like that for a long while, just breathing, trying to calm down. Ford pulled back to press a kiss to your forehead, huffing a quiet laugh against your skin.

“...Wow.”

You snorted and lifted your head to look at him, brow raised, and he laughed outright that time, shaking his head.

“So eloquent,” you mumbled, pulling him back in again for another kiss. And another. And another. And he groaned into your mouth when your tongue came out to play, and he pulled away again, shivering.

“Yes, well… I’m going to catch hypothermia if I don’t get dry soon.” You made a small whining sound in the back of your throat that he felt go straight down his spine, but your hold on him loosened, allowing him to pull away fully.

“Fine… but you haven’t even done your tests and all that yet.” Ah… It was true, he hadn’t. He was far too busy..erm… His face flushed crimson and he sputtered, quickly grabbing for the stethoscope sitting on top of the bag on the sandy shore. You snort as he fumbles with it, sticking the padded ends in his ears and holding the other end out to you with a shaking hand. He’s not sure if he’s shaking because of the chill in the water and air, or because of you, though he thinks it’d be silly to be  _ nervous _ now, after what you two just did.

… Annnd that’s not a helpful thought process to be on. He subtly pinches his thigh and takes a deep breath, pressing the cold, metal end of the stethoscope to your chest… and blinks in surprise.

“Huh…”

That’s all he says for a while, and, after a moment or two, your face scrunches up a bit.

“Was that a good ‘huh’ or a bad ‘huh’?”

“It… wasn’t a bad ‘huh’... but it’s not necessarily good, either?” Your face scrunches up a bit more, and he backtracks. “What I mean is, it’s interesting, but not bad or good. Neutral. ...I’m not helping, am I?” You laugh then, your face relaxing as you grasp the hand holding the metal end of the medical equipment to your chest.

“Why not tell me what it is, so I don’t assume the worst, huh?”

“Oh, right, of course! It’s just that you only have one heart, from the sounds of things. I just thought it strange, considering the change in physiology… I thought you’d have at least six, maybe seven hearts.”

“You saying I don’t have enough heart now?” you asked, a tinge of something resembling hurt in your tone that he couldn’t tell was real or fake.

“Of course not. You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know… figuratively speaking.” You snorted at that, releasing his hand so he could pull the stethoscope away, which he did, putting it back in his bag of equipment.

“Yes, figuratively speaking.” Your smile fell slightly when you saw the needle in his hand, and you bit your lip, worrying the flesh between your teeth. “Blood draw?” you asked, and he nodded.

“Blood draw. That’s all,” he repeated, his voice soothing, tone low, and you nodded. He moved forward then, trying to decide where to draw the blood from… and, after a moment’s contemplation, decided on your tail. He moved down to the end of it and got down on one knee, resting your tail on his raised knee and holding it with his arm. The vial was already screwed into the device holding the needle and ready to go. “Hold as still as you can, okay?” You drew in a deep breath, and on the exhale he pushed the needle in. He could feel the muscles in your strong tail clench reflexively, and he rubbed along the smooth skin-like surface in an attempt to soothe you. The vial began to fill with blood immediately, looking completely unremarkable aside from a slight sheen that normal blood wouldn’t have. When it gave a second to settle after he pulled out the needle, there was a pink film that began to develop on top inside the vial.

“Weird…”

You must have been watching, because when he looked over at you, you were staring at the vial in his hands, a small frown on your face. It wasn’t upset, though, more thoughtful… at least, he thought so. He gave you a smile and set your tail back in the water, rubbing over the spot the needle went in with his thumb.

“Yes, my love, indeed it is.” Then, after a moment, he cleared his throat. “Thank you, for, uh, cooperating. It means a lot to me.”

“What, like I was gonna just be a merfolk and say ‘nah, you can’t study me, sorry’?” He snorted at that, and you continued. “I mean, I did this, the least I could do is be cooperative. ...Just so long as you don’t go trying to dissect me or anything.” You shuddered, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t worry, I have no plans for that in this or any future.”

“Well I would hope not!”

Putting the vial carefully into a side pocket of his bag, he capped the needle and put it away to dispose of later, then turned back to you, sitting in the sand. It was getting cooler, and he really did need to go dry off and warm up… but the thought of leaving you so soon after being, erm…  _ intimate _ … just didn’t settle right with him.

“Hey, you should really go warm up, right?” It was as if you read his mind, and the small frown pulling down on the corners of his mouth must have given it away, because you were up and in his lap. Well, your top half, at least, was up between his bent legs, your hands on his thighs as you pulled yourself up to plant a kiss on his lips. “Go on. I’ll be fine. Just gonna hang out with Meridia and the others, learn how to be a mermaid so I can tell you all about their culture and whatnot.” Well, when you put it like that… that did sound like a fairly good idea. So did not freezing. With a sigh he pulled you in close for another kiss, this one lingering, warmth tingling on his lips when he finally pulled away and stood up.

“Very well… Do try and be safe, alright? There are dangerous things in the water, and--”

“--and I have a whole ...school? Do they call themselves schools?” You shook your head, “Whatever they call themselves, I have a whole lot of ‘em to help me out. I’ll be fine.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the sound of an approaching boat caught his attention, along with a familiar voice.

“Hey! If you two are done canoodling, then get your ass back on board before you freeze, Sixer!” Stan was standing on deck, waving Ford down, and the eldest of the two muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, which was just as warm as his cheeks.

“I’m coming, Stanley!” he called back, and oh, he knew that look on his brother’s face, the look of mischief--

“I don’t need to know that! Just finish up and get over here!!” He doubled over, laughing at his own crude joke while Ford spluttered indignantly. You think he’d be used to it by now, but no, no he wasn’t. It was amazing to him, just how over a few quick years, Stanley had gotten so accustomed to his brother’s presence again… almost as if he’d never left. Ford couldn’t help but sigh fondly, grabbing his bag and leaning down to give you a quick peck on the forehead.

“I’ll see you later, I suppose... though I wish I could stay.”

“For pillow talk and cuddles?” you asked, and he felt his already flushed face grow even warmer. He cleared his throat.

“Well… yes, I suppose so.” It was your turn to blush, and he chuckled at it, reaching a hand down to cup your cheek, which you so lovingly leaned into, pressing a kiss to his palm. “Once we get you back to your human form… I’d… like if we could go out somewhere, the three of us.” And he knew, wasn’t lost to the weight of that statement. Because he hardly ever wanted to go anywhere ‘normal’, didn’t want to be wasting time away from his research and his work. But it was well worth the promise, the way your face lit up and you rested your hand over his, and he could feel your smile on his palm.

“I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pleeeeease give me ideas for creatures to introduce!! I'll credit when/if I add them to the story, but yeah! Gimme your ideas for cryptids, for odd creature mashups and just plain ol' weird things in general for them to find! Otherwise, I'm just gonna go through a D&D monster manual and my imagination.
> 
> ALSO! Feel free to send me prompts for one-shots with Stan/Reader or Ford/Reader! Can be platonic or romantic or pwp, whatever. Just lemme know in a comment, or message me on Tumblr @ life-sans-sin.tumblr.com
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I love y'all! :heart:


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a video call, Stan admits to some things, and a transformation happens.

“Woah, Grunkle Stan, your hair sure is getting long! You’ll need to let me braid it when we see eachother next!”

Mabel’s excited voice spilled through the speakers of the laptop, clapping her hands together as what looked like glitter fell from between her fingers. Dipper sighed in an exasperated manner and brushed it all into a neat little pile...which Mabel then blew on, scattering it everywhere. The teenage boy turned and looked at his sister with disdain, who merely grinned back at him cheerfully.

“Mabel, I am not cleaning that up again--”

“Yeah yeah so! Grunkle Stan, do you usually just let it flow loose like that, or do you pull it back?? I have so many questions. Do you know what a ‘braid train’ is, and are you willing to be a part of one??”

Stan tugged on his now shoulder-length hair, pulling it forward to look at it before fixing his great niece with a questioning look.

“The hell’s a braid train? And ah, I usually just let it do whatever. Unless I’m doin’ somethin’ that requires a lot of concentration, then I pull it back.”

Dipper pushed to the forefront of the camera’s view, Mabel giving a huff but allowing it as her brother held his own special, pine-tree journal in his hand. “So, Great uncle Ford, I’ve been thinking. There’s got to be more excitement that we haven’t uncovered back in Gravity Falls. I’ve heard rumors online about something starting fires in the woods, but I don’t know if it’s just typical teenage arson or something weirder going on.”

Ford hummed contemplatively, mug of coffee warming his hands along with the wool blanket wrapped around his and Stan’s shoulders. They’d pushed their deck chairs closer together in a rare moment of brotherly bonding, and also because, as Stan claimed, “It’s fucking cold, so I’m stealing your warmth, Sixer.”

“Well, I have an idea of what it might be, actually.” Dipper stopped chewing on the end of his pen and looked up from his journal, intrigue glowing behind his brown eyes, noticeable even through the screen and webcam. Ahh, this boy reminded him so much of himself, it was scary sometimes. “During a walk one day, we discovered a breed of wolf that seems to have fire harnessed inside their very bodies! Quite fascinating, really. They called them ‘Ember Wolves’... and, aside from the exuding and breathing fire bits, they’re quite cute.”

“Fire Puppies!!” Mabel threw her arms around her sibling’s shoulders, leaning against his back until she was back in the frame again, Dipper wheezing. “Can we keep one, Grunkle Ford? Can we???” She sounded so earnest, and the plea was much like a regular little girl asking for a regular puppy… despite the fact that neither were ‘regular’ by any stretch of the imagination in this case.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Ford, no,” Stan said, frowning at his brother, who merely chuckled.

“Hey, speaking of the three of you, how come we only see you two? Where’re they at??”

“Ah, well, th-that is…” How do you explain to two teenagers that the love of your life has been turned into a merfolk, of all things? “See… the thing is, they, uh--”

Stan moved before he could finish, turning around the webcam and whistling, two fingers in his mouth, making the sound piercing and loud. Ford moved to cover his ears, but it was short, not lasting more than a second or so. What surprised him even more was how quickly it got a reaction.

The next thing he saw was you, lunging up out of the water and hanging onto the railing with wet hands that were, as he knew, surprisingly strong for their size. You’d regained your hoodie, thank the stars, otherwise Dipper would’ve had (probably not his first, but still) experienced a very topless you.

“Hey guys! Oh! Are we doing a video call?? Hi Mabel! Hi Dipper!” Your voice was cheerful, if not a bit tired, probably from all the swimming you’ve had to do during the migration and their quest for the last ingredient for the cure.

“What-- how-- Why are they hanging onto the outside of the boat??” Dipper’s incredulous voice came through the speakers, and Stan chuckled as he moved the camera a bit more, holding it out over the edge of the boat, revealing your tail and--

Mabel screamed, a flurry of movement on the camera and speaker feed as Stan quickly brought the laptop back closer to Ford, the both of them watching her mid-freakout with a slight bit of worry on their faces. She wheezed.

“Ohmigod, Dipper, did you  _ see that _ ??” Dipper was staring blankly for a second, pen clicking and unclicking repeatedly in his hand, and Ford just knew that his brain was working furiously to grasp what he’d just seen. Mabel squealed again and tugged on her brother’s arm, jumping up and down in place. “That’s amazing!! I didn’t think I’d see it happen, but it has! They’re even more magical and wonderful than they were before!!”

“I-I have so many questions, I just… How did this happen? And how are you guys going to make them change back??” Dipper was firing off rapid questions while Mabel continued to make strange noises, more glitter falling out of the sleeves of her sweater.

“Wait!!!” Mabel slammed her hands on the table their camera was sitting on, shaking it slightly and leveling her Grunkles with a serious look… or, more specifically, Ford. “Have you gotten to kiss a merfolk yet?” Dipper and Ford both made a slightly choked sound, and Stan just started laughing loudly.

“Boy, did he!” His eyebrows were almost to his hairline they were raised so high, and Ford blindly reached over to punch at his shoulder, but that only made him laugh harder.

“Shut  _ up _ Stanley!” he whispered harshly, face burning, and, when he looked up, he saw that you were staring at him, too. You gave a quick wink and a smile before letting go of the railing, falling back into the water in a backflip. Mabel was too busy squealing, but when Ford looked back at the video feed, he saw Dipper was blushing as well, looking uncomfortable with the whole situation. Ford cleared his throat. “Anyway. As for how they changed. They stepped on a sea merchin--”

“Merchin???”

“Yes. Merchin. Like a mermaid sea urchin.” Dipper immediately began jotting things down in his journal, and Ford chuckled fondly. “I can send you a copy of my own personal notes on them, if you’d like. To compare with your own, of course.”

“I- Yeah! Thank you!” The teen’s face practically lit up, brown eyes shining almost as much as his sister’s, and Ford couldn’t help but laugh now. Dipper had come a long way from seeing him as The Author of the Journals, someone to be revered, to Great Uncle Ford, someone to relate to… but he still had his moments. Still, it was endearing, so Ford didn’t say anything about it.

“Anyhow… They stepped on a sea merchin, and the spines imbedded themselves in their foot, secreting some sort of magical toxin that initiated the change over the course of a couple days.”

“It was an accident!” you call from the water below, and Ford nods, as if to confirm that statement.

“Wow… So, what do they look like? A-and, and what other effects did the toxin have before the transformation took place? Was it a sudden change, or did it happen gradually?”

“Y’know, you ask a lot of questions, kid,” Stan said from his mug of coffee, taking a long sip and wincing at the heat of it. Steam billowed from the mug’s open top. Ford noted with no small amount of amusement that it was the ‘World’s Best Grunkle’ mug that Mabel had ordered for him.

“I promise I will answer all your questions soon, Dipper. For now, you’ll have to wait, because I’m afraid we’re approaching our next stop, and I’ll need to get out to find the final ingredient for the cure,” Ford said gently, smiling widely when Dipper looked only slightly miffed.

“Okay… But you’re definitely in for a game of twenty questions when we see eachother next!”

“That sounds fair.”

“By the way!!” A hand pushed Dipper’s face out of camera view, despite the indignant sputter he gave, and Mabel came back into focus, her grin full of conspiratorial mischief. She lowered her voice and made a mock whisper, “Have you, you know…  _ proposed _ anything interesting to your new merfolk boo??” Ford felt his face go red, and she squealed. “Ooh, maybe you can find a nice shiny seashell to give to them!”

“No! … I-I mean, ahm, no, Mabel. I… haven’t,” Ford stumbled over his words, fingers rubbing at the warm ceramic of his own mug. ‘World’s Best Great Uncle’.

“Whaaat? Why not??” The teen put her hands on her hips then, allowing Dipper back into the shot of what looked like Dipper’s bedroom. “Are you afraid of commitment, Grunkle Ford?” She said it so gently, but it was still like a punch out of nowhere, coming from her of all people.

“Wha-- no! No, I just… Look, this isn’t the type of thing we should be discussing--”

“But I want you to be happy, Grunkle Ford!” It was so earnest that he stopped, both he and Stan (and Dipper, from the looks of it) turning to look at her. Her smile was falling at the edges, and she suddenly looked so much older than the sixteen year old she actually was. “I know that they make you happy, so I want you to keep that forever, y’know? I want you to be happy forever.”

“Mabel…” Dipper placed a hand on her shoulder, and she was quick to turn away from the camera, hands raising to her face to rub across her cheeks.

“Anyway, haha! I think I hear mom calling me, so I better go for now. Love you guys!” Then she was gone, and Ford frowned.

“... She uh, had another nightmare this morning.” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, not looking at the camera direction anymore, but instead staring at the floor. “She still thinks it’s her fault… I think she’s trying to make up for it, y’know?”

Ford knew.

“Well, we should get off of here. Go hug your sister for us, and be on the lookout for our care package, alright, kid?” Stan said, index finger hovering over the button, and Ford broke out of his intense thought to stop him.

“Wait. ...Dipper.” The teen looked at the camera then, and Ford noticed the faint tremor, so fine that it was hardly noticeable, but the dark circles under his eyes gave it away. Stars, it really was like looking at a younger version of himself… “Take care of each other, okay? And don’t be afraid to call us, no matter the time.”

Dipper cracked a smile at that, nodding. “Thanks, Great Uncle Ford. Grunkle Stan. … Talk to you later.” They said their goodbyes, and then the camera feed was cut, the video call making a small sound to signify its ending. Stan closed the laptop with a sigh, reaching up to rub at his eyes from behind his glasses.

“Christ, Mabel’s still--”

“Yes, not that she can help it.”

“But it wasn’t her fault--”

“I know that. You know that. Everyone knows that…”

“Not her. Not the one person who needs to know it most…”

The two brothers lapsed into a tense silence, hands moving on their own to grip at one another, Stan giving Ford’s hand a tight squeeze as he pushed down the emotion that was no doubt welling up inside of his chest at that moment.

It was painful to think about, after all.

The thought that their sweet great niece blamed herself for everything like that. That was a heavy burden to carry on such a bright smile, afterall…

A splash broke their thoughts, scattered them to the backs of their minds as you jumped back out of the water, grabbing hold of the railing to keep yourself upright. Maybe it was because you could sense the somber mood, but you fixed them both with a warm smile that met and matched the concern in your eyes.

“We’re almost there. Another twenty minutes and we should be at the island.” You pulled yourself up until you could rest your arms on the railing, chin resting on your folded arms. Beneath you, water dripped from your soaked hoodie and your tail, the sound lost in the wake of the boat moving through the water. Ford set his mug on the floor and got to his feet, leaving the warmth of the blanket and his brother to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Indeed,” he said quietly. Then, turning to Stanley, he frowned slightly. “Could you check the radar to make sure there are no sharks or any other dangerous creatures around..? I don’t want them in the water too long if there are.”

“Ford, I’ll be fine, promise.” Stan was already getting up, though, taking his coffee with him into the control room and looking at the radar.

“Looks clear to me, save for all the blips from merfolk in the area. Nothing much bigger than that, though. At least, not close enough to be a problem.”

Ford nodded, and he heard you give an exasperated sigh. When he turned back to you, it was to you looking at him with questioning eyes. “Are you alright…? You were awake extra early this morning. I saw you on deck before the sun was up.” Ford tensed, and you sighed. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want, I just… I worry about you.” Then, much softer, “I miss being in bed with you… knowing you’re safe.”

And he knew you were talking about nightmares, knew that you were aware that nothing else could get to him all the way out here. But it still made him smile a bit, knowing you were just as worried about him as he was about you. Crossing the deck, he leaned down and planted a kiss on your lips, firm yet soft.

“As do I, my love… Let’s hurry to the island and get this ingredient so we can be done with this long-distance thing, shall we?”

And your mouth turned up at the corners, into something far more genuine, less concerned and more eager.

“We shall.”

-

“Keep your boots on, we can let them dry on deck. But we don’t want a repeat of what happened to them.”

“Yeah yeah…” Stanley gruffed as he trudged through the water in his boots, complaining about the wet, squishy feeling inside his shoes as he walked. Ford, on the other hand, was keeping a keen eye out at his feet. Who knows? Those spines may be able to penetrate through the soles of their shoes. He wasn’t wanting to find out, at any rate.

“Be careful!”

Your encouraging shout from the deeper waters just off the island’s shore made Ford look up with a quirk of a smile, waving, and laughing when you waved back.

“Eugh, you two are so sweet, I’m gonna get diabeetus.” Stan’s mutterings met Ford’s ears, and he scoffed.

“What, jealous, are you?” Silence met his question, and, after a few steps, Ford realized Stanley wasn’t following. He turned to see Stan glaring into the sand, hot enough that it might as well have begun to melt into glass where he stared. “...I thought you said--”

“I did! And I am, okay? I just…” Stan raked a hand through his hair, having foregone wearing his beanie for once. “It’d be nice, if someone were interested in an old goat like me--”

“Careful, if the kids heard you say that, they’d start trying to set you up with Gompers.”

Stan snorted, “Mabel would, maybe… but Gompers is already married to Waddles, remember?” Ahh, that he did. That was a… strange, and yet emotional, ceremony if he’d ever seen one. His brother sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, starting to walk again, so Ford slowed his pace until they were side-by-side. “Nah, I just keep thinkin’, y’know? I ain’t gettin’ any younger. My joints ache every morning, and by the end of the day, I’m bushed. ...What sort of person would be interested in me?” And Ford noticed, but didn’t point out, how Stan said ‘person’ and not ‘woman’ like he had expected. Stories of a certain Jimmy Snakes came to mind, and he pushed them down, giving his twin a careful, reassuring smile.

“Hey, if I can find someone, then you certainly can. I mean, heck, Stanley, I’m just as old as you, and I’ve…” His eyes find their way back out to the water where you’re watching, not able to hear their conversation, but watching carefully. His smile widened, “I think you shouldn’t give up yet. ...Maybe, next time we port, we could go out somewhere?”

“Wha- you serious??” Stan looked surprised and, honestly, Ford couldn’t blame him. If it wasn’t for supplies, he usually was against any sort of outings. There were too many countries and states where Stanley was wanted, or not welcomed, and enemies abound… But it seemed like something his brother needed, and something he promised you.

“Yes, very serious. Besides, it could potentially be good for all of us.” Stan quieted at that, but when Ford looked over, he had a grin on his face, kicking around at the water in front of him with his waterlogged boots.

“Just don’t go tryin’ to play wingman. ‘Cuz you suck at it.” Ford scoffed and pushed on Stan’s shoulder, sending him further out into the water with a stumble. His brother laughed, a belly laugh that had him bending over. “Hey, maybe I can ask them to play my wingman instead!”

“Yes yes, we all know how lacking I am in the flirting department,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes, though it was with a fond smile on his face. He turned back to look where he was walking, but ended up walking right into one of Stan’s sturdy arms instead. He gave a small oof as it hit against his chest, and he turned to his brother, frowning and mouth open to speak. But all words died when he saw the look on his brother’s face, staring down right at his feet. Ford’s eyes moved to look there as well, and… oh.

He was three inches from stepping on one of the very things they were searching for. Whoops. Shrugging off his brother’s arm, he knelt down in the water, pulling a large jar out of his bag.

“Good eye, Stanley. Thanks for that,” he said, carefully closing the jar around the urchin-like thing, all glittery and pink and glaringly bright in the sunlight. Stan made a sound of disgust as he leaned in to look at the creature inside the jar, squinting.

“Looks like Mabel’s scrapbook supplies threw up on a sea urchin…”

“Yes… yes it does.” He couldn’t help the grin on his face, and he looked back out to you, holding the jar full of sea water and the merchin above his head for you to see. Your tail splashed at the water as you flung yourself back with a laugh, relieved and happy, and ducked under the water to swim back towards the boat.

“Welp, let’s go cook up some weird ass cure for your weird ass datemate.”

“I believe that will be requiring this…” The suddenness of the voice startled both men enough that Ford almost dropped the jar, which he caught with wet hands slipping against the glass. He breathed out a sigh and looked up to see--

“Oh, Meridia! Were you by chance able to gather the last ingredient?” The mermaid was usually only around after dark, but Ford couldn’t help but notice how stunning her dark skin looked beneath the light of the sun, her long, flowing black hair dark as jet. His eyes flitted over to Stan and saw his brother pointedly looking away, a light flush on his face and...boy, they really needed to go out somewhere soon. Meridia just nodded, a wide smile gracing her lips.

“Yes, I have, indeed. The jar you gave me was quite helpful. I collected the water of the sea under a full moon as instructed. Now it is up to you to craft the cure.”

Ford, sparing his brother from having to do it, carefully walked out into the deeper waters, feeling the chill of it bite through his clothing, and took the jar from the mermaid. She smiled, a flash of pearly white teeth that appeared sharper than ‘usual’, before turning and diving back into the water as graceful as could be. Her shadow disappeared over to where yours was beneath the water’s surface, dancing around you for a moment before drawing in close, and stars, he was curious to know what the two of you were saying beneath the waves.

Once the twins got back to the boat, you were nowhere to be found, but Ford was determined, and distracted. Too busy thinking about cooking up this cure to really notice where you had gone to.

He poured everything into a pot, the smell salty and strongly reminiscent of the fishy smell you’d get in the fish section of a grocery store. Nevertheless, he continued, even after Stan complained about the smell and cracked the porthole window over the stovetop. The water began to change color as soon as he added the heart of the sea merchin, turning from a murky blue-green into a vibrant purple, shimmering even without the light. He cut the heat and let it sit, as he was told to do, for a good hour, reading over his journal and taking new notes of the concoction’s behaviors in the saucepan. When, finally, the time had elapsed, he strained the mixture into a jar, and was slightly shocked to find that it had changed, yet again. Instead of being a liquid, it was more… sluggish, as he poured it. Almost like it had been thickened with cornstarch, but it hadn’t.

Stan pretended to retch and called it ‘mermaid gravy’, to which both the brothers shared a small laugh, albeit a grossed out one.

“Please don’t call it that around them, or they might not take it.”

“True enough… Hey, speakin’ of, you seen ‘em anywhere?” Stan asked, and Ford only  _ now _ realized that you’d been missing. Guilt immediately tried to nibble on the edges of his mind, but he pushed it down, shrugging his shoulders.

“I saw Meridia swim over to them. Perhaps they went to say goodbye to the other merfolk?”

“Maybe.”

They climbed the steps up to the deck of the boat, and--

“Sweet Moses, how’d you get up here??” Stan’s exclamation broke the otherwise amicable silence, and Ford couldn’t help but agree with it as they found themselves face to face with a glowing orb of water, just… kind of floating above the deck. You were inside, tail curled slightly so that you would fit. Ford stumbled forward, marveling at it all, when you pointed off the starboard side of the ship. He leaned over the railing and saw Meridia there, eyes aglow with a sea green light that was similar to that which surrounded the now floating water. Stan followed, albeit more slowly, letting out a low whistle. “Whoa… Talk about a party trick.”

“I have delivered your mate to you, Stanford Pines. After consulting with our king Mermando, it has been decided that we shall escort them the entire rest of their journey as one of us.” The smile on her face was touched by a sadness that Ford didn’t miss, but couldn’t quite place. “Now hurry, change them, before my magic runs out.”

“Ah, r-right! Of course!” Ford stepped toward the bubble of water, feeling a strange presence in the air… That feeling right before a storm surrounded it, the air dense with moisture. Little flecks of water floated off of the bubble and floated up before evaporating. He watched for a moment longer, then held the jar out. You stuck your head out of the bubble, your smile wobbly and your eyes wet, though whether that was because of the water or something else, he couldn’t say.

“Here we go… hope this works,” you said softly, taking the jar with both hands and raising it to your lips. He was grateful you didn’t seem to breathe in while you were drinking it, but from the look on your face, the taste must have been foul. You gagged and sputtered for a moment, then continued to drink until--

He hardly had the time to catch the jar before it broke on the deck’s surface. You pulled back into the safety of the water and writhed, foam escaping your mouth as your tail thrashed. He let out a noise of alarm, and he heard a voice calling to him from below.

“Fear not, Stanford Pines! If you concocted the cure correctly, then all shall be well.” And, wow, no pressure there, he found himself wondering if he’d done it right afterall. He’d followed every instruction, doing everything as he’d been told… but what if he had remembered incorrectly? It was rare to happen, but still, it did happen. “The tail will be first to go. Prepare something to cover your mate with so they are not exposed.”

And just as she said, he watched as your tail turned a fleshy color, the scales sloughing off into the water around you, some dropping to the deck. They were a pretty iridescent purple color, and the vibrance reminded him of your hair. The tail then split down the middle, and he moved with a quick precision, removing his hooded jacket and holding it out in front of you. He turned to glance at Stan, who had, mercifully, turned his back, arms folded over his chest.

Ford turned his attention back to you, watching the pain on your face as more foam left your mouth, bubbling to the surface of the bubble at the top… sea foam. Then, you had legs again, curling up closely to your chest, trembling, and he reached for you, unable to stop himself, hoping that it wouldn’t ruin the transformation any. He grasped your hands, cheek pressed against the cool orb of sea water. The last thing to change were your gills, which pressed flat against your skin before, eventually, fading into nothing.

Holding his breath, he pressed himself into the bubble, tucking you against his chest and wrapping his jacket around you. The water fell away then, washing across the deck and sending the scales and foam into the sea. You gasped and coughed and hacked, and he tried to rub your back while carrying you the way he was. You leaned heavily against his chest, and, when he called your name gently, your eyes opened, and he couldn’t have been happier to see you right then.

“Did it work..?” you croaked, voice breaking off every now and again, and he just laughed, pressing a kiss to your wet hair.

“You were marvelous.” He felt your smile against his neck as you tucked yourself in closer, shivering, and it was only then that he realized how chill it actually was outside. “Come on, let’s get you below so you can warm up.”

“They decent?” Stan gruffed, and, when Ford said that you were, indeed, decent, he turned with a hesitant smile. One that you returned easily, looking far too tired and feeling far too weak. “Hey, good to have ya back, kid. You worried Sixer to death, y’know.”

Ford cleared his throat, “Yes, well… Perhaps we can discuss all that later. Right now, they look like they need a nap.” Stan grunted in agreement and, with a little careful fenagaling, got you down the narrow steps and to the bunks. Stan tossed a towel Ford’s way, who caught it easily and began the arduous task of drying you off. The water seemed to stick to you more than it ever had, perhaps a residual effect, one he needed to jot down before he forgot--

“Hey…” Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he realized he was rubbing the same spot on your head until the hair stuck up at odd angles. Chuckling a bit, he murmured an apology and moved on, but a hand on his wrist stopped him. You looked up at him, so tired, but there was a warmth in your eyes, a fire that he hadn’t noticed before. “I love you, Stanford.”

He felt his cheeks warm with a blush, and he quickly went back to work drying you off… but he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your towel-covered head, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“And I, you, my love.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The club episode. There's bumpin' music, everyone orders a drink, and the music is shitty. Still, something interesting might come of tonight yet.

The next port was a couple days away, and Ford was hellbent on making sure you actually  _ rested _ those two days. You, however, seemed hellbent on doing anything  _ but _ rest… and it was beginning to grow rather frustrating.

Whether you were trying to do laundry (which, let’s be real, was difficult enough on a ship of all places), cooking them breakfast early in the morning, or fetching random things that one brother asked the other for… you just weren’t willing to lay down. Ford had an idea of what would make you listen and rest, but he didn’t want to have to resort to that… mostly because running a ship was a more-than-one-man job, and he didn’t want to have to put all that stress on Stanley. But after you nearly burned your hand on the pan at breakfast, Ford finally put his foot down.

You yelped as you found yourself scooped up into strong arms, far stronger than they seemed, and carried you into the bunk room. Ford carefully set you down on the floor and pointed up the ladder to the top bunk, frowning sternly.

“Bed.”

You smiled, trying to walk past him, but he stood firm, hand not moving from where it was pointing.

“... You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m quite serious, my dear.”

You tried getting past him again, but he had you cornered between the bunks and the wall and his chest, and you frowned up at him.

“Laundry needs done, and breakfast--”

“Stanley can handle that.” He rolled his eyes at the ‘hey’ of indignation he heard his brother shout from the kitchen, then sighed. “You need rest. You’ve only just gotten your legs back under you, and you’re going to--”

“I’m just fine, Stanfor--”

“-- _ you’re going to wear out. _ Why can’t you just take it easy? Take a nap or something? We can take care of everything.” Your frown deepened, and you mumbled something under your breath he couldn’t hear. “...What?”

You drew in a short breath, “I said, ‘I don’t need to lay around being useless.’ There are things I can do to help, if you’ll just let me!”

“You’re not being useless, you’re recuperating. Two very different things. Besides, we’ll be at port in two days, and I want you well enough to be able to go out with Stanley and me.” You perked up a bit at this, looking over at him and uncrossing your arms from over your chest. He mentally reminded himself that he needed to put the finishing touches on the binders he was making you, so you could wear one if you wanted when you all went out.

“You meant it, then? ...About going out?”

“I already told Stanley we would, so it’s a done deal.” He shrugged his shoulders then, lowering his hand from pointing to rest on your shoulder. “But I want to be able to watch you dance and have fun, so, please, rest while you can.” You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, obviously thinking it over, and he leaned down and captured that lip between his own, nibbling on it. He smiled at your whine of ‘not fair’ and pulled away, delighted to see your face was a few shades redder than it had been prior.

“Fine,” you grumbled, turning and climbing up the small ladder to the top bunk. You flopped onto the mattress, curling your legs up to your chest, and, after a moment of thought… 

...surely Stanley could handle everything for a little bit…

… he climbed up after you, settling in behind you with a huff of breath against the nape of your neck. His arm draped around your middle while his other slid under the pillow, and he pulled you back against his chest with a grunt.

“...You just wanted to cuddle. Admit it.”

“I’ll admit to nothing,” he said, making a show of sounding curt, which made a small snort of laughter escape past your lips. He pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck, reveling in the way you shivered as he tangled his legs with yours. “Rest for a little while, and, once we hit port, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“You better…” He grinned at how sleepy you already sounded, and it took only a few seconds before you were breathing deeply, the rise and fall of your chest and stomach rhythmic and soothing.

-

“Damn, how long they gonna take?”

“Patience. I’m sure they’ll be along shortly…” Ford mumbled, glancing back to the boat that swayed gently on the water’s surface. It had been half an hour and there was still no real sign of you, which was… worrisome. You’d done well with resting over those last two days, and you’d gotten much better about walking around again. ...But what if you’d slipped and fallen? His mind raced along the track of ‘what if’s and he took a step toward the boat, just in time for you to step out.

His breath caught in his throat, and his heart thudded against his chest. From behind him, Stan let out a soft ‘whoa’, and...whoa, indeed.

The new binders he’d made fit you perfectly, he’d made certain of that. You’d very nearly gotten frustrated with the double and triple and quadruple checking of the measurements he took, but it was all worth it. Your chest was almost flawlessly flat, as flat as it could be with you still having breasts of course… and you were wearing a button-up shirt with a different zip-up hoodie, left unzipped. Your jeans were a dark wash with faded patches on the knees, though whether from use or style, he couldn’t be sure. Your hair was brushed forward so it hung over your eye slightly, and the smile on your face was one of questioning, and he knew what you were going to say even before you said it.

“...How do I look?”

Ford swallowed twice before he was able to find his voice, and even when he did, it was very quiet.

“...Wow.”

Wow, indeed.

Your face flushed a bit and you chuckled, reaching down to smooth out the wrinkles in your nice shirt, which had been folded at the bottom of your bag. Even with them, it looked so good on you it should’ve been considered criminal.

“Welp, we better get a move on. Think I heard about a place down there that serves good food and lots of alcohol.” Stan saved Ford from saying anything more embarrassing, and you jogged to catch up to them as they turned and started to walk away from the pier and down the street. The further the three of you walked, the closer you got to some sort of… club? It was a warehouse, from the outside, but there was music pouring from the open doors, a bumping beat practically loud enough to shake the sidewalk. Ford glanced at Stan and caught him turning down his hearing aid with a grin on his face, and the elder twin sighed quietly. At least his brother had that luxury. From the sound of things, he was going to  _ need _ a hearing aid after spending any amount of time in that club..warehouse..place.

He wondered idly if this establishment even had a license to sell liquor. There were tourists everywhere, and locals and tourists alike were pouring out of the building. Once they got close enough to read the sign, he saw that it simply said ‘The Club’.

“How original…” he muttered, mostly to himself, and you hesitantly took his hand in your own, glancing up at him from the corner of your eye. He hummed curiously, but all you did was give his hand a squeeze in return, and he laced your fingers together.

The inside of The Club was large and spacious, decorated to look like it was anything but a metal-siding warehouse at the end of the block. The color scheme was decidedly purple inside, which Stan had no problem mentioning. You hummed in approval as you looked around, and Ford found himself mourning the loss of your hand as you carefully eased yourself away from him and up to the bar after Stan.

The woman standing behind the bar was probably what Stan would consider pretty. She wasn’t too thin, had darker tanned skin, and what looked like natural long, curly brown hair. Her lips were full and glossed, and her eyes were a stunning deep brown that reflected the purple interior lights readily. She smiled, and her pearly whites gleamed in it, too.

“Welcome to The Club, gentlemen. How may I help you?” she asked politely, and Ford almost wanted to say something, that you weren’t a ‘gentleman’, but decided it really wasn’t his place to put you out there like that. And the way you smiled, it was almost as if you  _ liked _ being called a gentleman. Stan reached into his wallet and smacked a fifty onto the counter, giving her a wide grin.

“You can start us up a tab. That’s me, my brother,” he turned to point to Ford, “and this one here.” He put his hand on top of your head, which you shooed away, fixing your hair by combing your fingers through it. She chuckled and nodded, taking the fifty and putting it in the register with a few presses of a couple buttons. The  _ ka-ching _ of the register opening made Stan’s smile widen (he always did love that sound), and as the drawer closed, he leaned against the tall bar, looking over the options of alcohol on the wall. There was practically every kind, every brand… Ford was, honestly, not even aware of some of them. Still, it was impressive, even he had to admit. Stanley let out a low whistle as he eyed something at the back, a bottle of tequila, from the looks of it. Then, he shook his head and pointed at something else. “I’ll take a Macallan Scotch whiskey, on the rocks.”

“And for you?” she asked, looking at Ford, who was now standing beside you.

“Wha- … oh. Uh, a vodka and orange juice, please.” It wasn’t customary that he drank...like, ever, but if he did, it had to be with something else. The taste of straight alcohol made him gag, and that wasn’t a fun time for anyone.

“Sure thing, baby,” she said, turning to start mixing that up while also grabbing down the scotch whiskey Stan had asked for. She turned her head over her shoulder while mid-work to look at you. “And for you, sweetheart?”

“I’m feeling like a Mai Tai tonight. Just to get things started. Extra strength, please.” Stan clapped you hard on the shoulder, and you looked up at him with a small smile. Ford was worried about just what ‘extra strength’ would mean, but didn’t say anything. If anything, this would be his only drink, and he’d keep an eye on you.

Ford caught the glass of orange-colored mixed drink slid his way across the counter top, looking down into it inquisitively. There was a slight shimmer there that he didn’t normally see (not that he drank much).

“Relax, hun, it’s shimmer vodka. Very popular lately,” the bartender said, and, sure enough, when she held up the bottle she’d used for his drink, it was a shimmering clear liquid.

“Eh, just drink it, Sixer. Not like it’s gonna hurt ya,” Stanley mused between sips of his whiskey, and, when it came time to make your drink, Ford watched with a precision that was almost scary. His eyes widened when the bartender began to measure out the alcohol-- almost three times the amount that was put into his own! But with the fruit juices and garnishes, it looked totally unsuspecting. She passed it to you, and you took a small sip, grinning and holding it out to Stan.

“Hang on,” he said, plucking up a straw and sticking it in to take a sip. When he pulled away, it was with an eager grin. “Oh, kid… that’s  _ dangerous _ .” Ford wasn’t so sure he liked the way Stanley said that, but before he could interject, you were taking lengthy sips, and his brother was back at his scotch whiskey. He just sighed and sipped at his vodka and oj, face scrunching up the slightest bit at the bitter taste. “Over here!” Stan called to get your attention, and the three of you went over to sit at a booth in one of the corners. The seats were plush leather, with a few wears and tears here and there, but were otherwise undamaged. They were, just like nearly everything else in The Club, purple and black.

“So…” you began, taking a sip from your drink before setting it down, tongue slipping out to lick the juice and alcohol concoction off of your upper lip. “You gonna dance?” The question was directed at Stan, Ford knew, and his brother just scoffed lightly.

“Me? Kid, I’m gonna need at  _ least _ two more of these before that happens.” You giggled and turned to Ford then, a smile on your face and hope in your eyes.

“What about you?”

He felt his face flush and he glanced away, taking another, tiny sip of his drink mostly to occupy himself.

“I ah… I don’t dance.”

Stan snorted, “Not well, anyway.”

Ford shot his brother a glare, only getting snickering in return, and sighed. “I haven’t attempted to dance since our senior prom, and it was…”  _ A disaster,  _ his mind supplied readily, but instead of vocalizing it he trailed off. You frowned slightly, trying to cover it with your glass as you took another, hearty sip, but he saw it all the same.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind dancing by myself… maybe I’ll just have to show Stan here some new moves,” you said, glancing at his brother from the corner of your eye, who eyed you as he drained the rest of his whiskey.

“Kid, the only thing you’ll be showin’ me is how to be an inferior dancer!”

“Ha! As if! You can’t swing to music like this,” you said easily, pointing up at the ceiling, where there were large speakers situated periodically. The bass was booming, and it was definitely not the type of song you could foxtrot or swing to… still, he saw that determined look on Stan’s face and knew that he’d find a way. Even if it meant paying off the DJ to get a song where he  _ could _ .

“I’ll show you. ...After my next two drinks.”

“You’re on.”

Ford watched the two of you chat and drink, and he joined in occasionally, when he could. Eventually Stan got up to go to one of the many bars situated up against the far walls, and Ford watched as a person came up to him. The two of them chatted for a moment, then pointed at what looked to be a rather beautiful woman sitting alone at the bar. With that, the person made their way off, and Stan walked up to the young woman, no doubt dropping some sort of cheesy line.

“I’m gonna need another one of these, probably…” you muse to yourself, draining the last of your glass before popping the pineapple wedge off of the rim to nibble on. Boozy pineapple wasn’t exactly the best sort of thing to have in your stomach while drinking, but he supposed it would do for now.

“Just don’t overdo it, okay..? I don’t want you getting sick.” You turned to him then, pineapple still in your mouth, though he saw your smile from around it. You popped it out with a wet little sound (apparently you were sucking the juice and alcohol out of it) and shot him a little smile.

“Don’t worry so much, Ford. I know my limits… usually.”

“See, it’s the usually I’m worried about--”

You leaned up and kissed him then, and he melted against the leather seats while you scooted over his lap to climb over him and out of the booth. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

And with that, Ford found himself alone, his still hardly-drank glass of mostly orange juice sitting in front of him mockingly. He grabbed it and took a large swig, nearly gagging on the tangy, sour and bitterness that melded on his tongue. His goal was to finish one drink tonight. If he could manage that, he’d consider this a success. That, and… if you and Stan enjoyed yourselves. That was most important.

Just as he was reaching for his glass again, he heard the song change suddenly, the scratch of a record playing across the speakers. It was heavy on bass, he could feel it shaking the surface of the table.

_ “If you’re not drunk ladies and gentlemen… get ready to get fucked up! Let’s do it!” _

He frowned at the crude language throughout the song, but what stuck out more to him was how the crowd in the center of the dance floor suddenly parted, and a man stepped out. He was dressed sharply in a black suit and button-up with a royal purple tie and vest.  _ Everyone _ was looking at him, Ford realized… even himself.

_ “When I walk in the club, all eyes on me. I’m with the Party Rock crew. All drinks are free.” _

Ford felt his hand twitch toward his glass, a fuzziness in his mind that he didn’t remember feeling prior.

_ “We like Ciroc. We love Patron. We came to party rock… Everybody it’s on!” _

He grabbed his glass and downed it, spluttering and gagging slightly once he finally emptied it, then pulling it back to his lips to get every last drop. He looked around, head finally feeling a bit clearer, yet at the same time not, and saw everyone else doing the exact same thing. Something was going on… something wasn’t right, and he was going to find out what it was.

“Hey Ford!” You startled him with how suddenly you came up to his right, drink in hand. He was surprised it was still mostly full. “Wow, you finished yours already? Should I go grab you another one--”

“No! … No, I uh… That won’t be necessary.” You shot him a concerned glance, then, he sighed, fixing you with a reassuring smile… or as reassuring as he could, anyway. “I’m good for now, thank you.”

“Hmm.. Okay then.” You tipped your glass back against your lips and took a long drink, letting out a refreshed sigh after you were done. “You wanna try mine? It probably tastes better than yours does.” Ford eyed the drink carefully… then nodded, hesitantly. You held it out and he took a tiny sip.

… And was surprised that it didn’t taste like alcohol at all. Maybe a little bit, but definitely nowhere near as bad as his. He took another, longer drink, and he heard you chuckle from next to him.

“Careful, like Stan said, these are dangerous. They sneak up on you.” Ahh, and now he understood how. He could easily drink several of your drinks without thinking about it at all, unlike Stan with his straight liquor. Speaking of straight liquor, it appeared that there were several people in line at the bar, wanting to do what looked like shots, if the way they tossed their heads back said anything at all. “Want me to go and order you one…? From the face you were making, that vodka and orange juice was pretty terrible.”

He hummed thoughtfully, then, after a moment, shook his head. “No, I… probably shouldn’t. One of us needs to be sober enough to get us back to the boat.”

“I’m not planning on getting blackout drunk, you know,” you scoff, climbing back over him to get to your seat. His hands rest on your hips when, for a brief moment, your straddling his waist, and you pause to press a kiss to his forehead. 

And maybe it was the alcohol, or the thumping music, or the fact that you’d just been so physically close to him, but he was feeling rather...touchy-feely at that moment. His hand rested on your knee, rubbing just on the inside of your leg with his thumb, and you raised a brow at him. He shook his head and smiled, brushing his grey hair from in front of his eyes.

“Good. I’d hate to have to end the evening early…” he mumbled, leaning in close to press a kiss to your cheek. Because it was true. Despite him being so out of his element, he was enjoying himself… despite worrying about Stan overdoing it and you drinking too much and getting sick. He was having  _ fun _ .

The alcohol was already beginning to warm his mind, he could tell, and, for fear of getting too tipsy, he stood up from the booth, turning at your questioning sound.

“I’m going to get some food. Anything you want in particular?”

You’d taken the pineapple wedge from your drink and were suckling on it again, and he felt heat rise to his face as he watched your tongue dip out to collect the juices running along your bottom lip. Seemingly unaware of what you were doing to him, you just smiled at him brightly.

“Whatever is fine. Thank you, Ford.”

“Yep,” he said, voice higher pitched than normal, and he quickly cleared his throat, turning away to head to the bar. “Yes, uh, no problem, love. I’ll be right back.” He quickly made his way out of the group of people and to the bar, back to the bartender he was most familiar with. Her pretty brown eyes focused on him, and he fumbled with the laminated menu for a moment before looking it over. Typical bar fare, but it did also seem that they had ‘better’ food, as well. Maybe this place doubled as a restaurant? Either way, he set the menu down on the counter and looked across the bar to the pretty young woman, a polite smile on his lips.

“What can I get you, honey?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron and grabbing a notepad and pencil from beneath the bar.

“Just a couple orders of mozzarella sticks, please… and, perhaps…” He thought it over hard, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “...a Mai Tai? Regular strength, please.” She smiled, dazzling white teeth, and jotted down something on the notepad (presumably his order) before turning to start mixing his drink.

“The vodka and oj not doing it for you?”

“No, most definitely not.” She chuckled, and his face scrunched up reflexively at the memory of the taste. “No offense to you! You mixed it perfectly. I’m just… sensitive to the taste of alcohol, let’s say.”

“I get that a lot, no worries,” she reassured him. “I’ll put a little less than usual for you, just so that you don’t end up passing out on your date.” His eyes widened slightly, a heat rising to his cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol, and she chuckled again. “I assume that is your date, anyway. Don’t worry, I’m not here to judge. Love is love, afterall.”

“Y-Yes, well… You see, they--”

“Well, here you go! One Mai Tai, over easy.” He quickly took the drink and tested it, giving a small, hesitant sip before letting out a relieved sigh. No alcohol taste. Now he’d be able to loosen up a bit without gagging on the acrid taste of vodka and orange juice. “I’ll get one of the girls to bring your food to your table, so go on back to your date, alright?” He turned, mouth opened to object, but the knowing smile on her lips made him shut it again, nodding. “Have fun~!” she cooed after him as he headed back to the table, through the throngs of people moving in and out of the dance floor.

He couldn’t even  _ see  _ you, there were so many people. If it weren’t for the alcohol, he’d probably be anxious, but for now, he just moved patiently through, weaving in and out of groups until--

“--and I really like your shirt. It suits you.”

The man from before, on the dance floor, was sitting on the table you were seated at, talking to you. His hands played with the neckline of your shirt in a manner that could only be taken as flirtatious, and he saw a few people looking over at you enviously.

“Oh, thanks.” You take another sip of your drink, and the man leans in closer, close enough that it looks like he’s whispering something in your ear, and Ford feels something hot well up in his chest, churning and making him feel sick to his stomach.

Was this… jealousy?

You snorted a laugh and shook your head, gently urging the man back away from you.

“That was such a bad line… But, sorry, I’m actually here with someone tonight.”

And Ford watches as he picks up your left hand, examining it for a bit before smiling widely.

“Trying to get rid of me?” he asks, and you frown slightly.

“No. Though he’ll be back any second, so…”

“Oh? And, tell me, what’s he like? How do you prefer your men?” Your nose scrunched up a bit at that, and you leaned back against the leather seat, taking a small sip from your drink.

“Honestly? I don’t prefer much of anything.”

“Hmm, I see…” He raised a hand to his chin, and Ford caught the flash of a purple and black ring on his right middle finger, before he stood and slid off the table with ease. “Well, I’ll be on my way, then. I do hope I’ll get to know you less formally tonight… perhaps later on.” The amount of seduction dripping off his tone infuriated Ford, and he crossed the remainder of the room in a few long-legged strides. But before he could get there, the mysterious man was gone.

“Oh, Ford!” You smiled at him as though you were relieved to see him, and he quickly took the chance to slide back into the corner booth, setting his drink on the black wooden table. “I see you couldn’t help yourself,” you said, voice full of amusement as you eyed his drink with a grin. He shrugged his shoulders, hand raising to rub at the back of his neck.

“Yes, well, it does taste quite good… Better than my previous drink, anyway.”

“Admit it. You like your drinks fruity, and that’s okay! Real men like their drinks tasty over being bitter and gross.” You eyed a passing person who was chugging a beer and stuck your tongue out in distaste. “Bleh. Never understood how people could drink that piss-water. The german stuff my dad drinks isn’t much better, but at least it has flavor. ...I get the feeling most people here are just trying to get wasted, and not enjoy what they’re drinking at all.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, Stanley actually does enjoy the taste of whiskey… so at least the three of us are enjoying ourselves.”

“Yeah!” You raised your glass to take another sip, but you stopped short of your lips when you apparently saw something off to Ford’s right. He turned to look and saw the bartender heading your way, two plates in hand. She looked a little annoyed, but when she saw the two of you were looking she put on a big smile.

“Here you go! Sorry, the servers were all...busy, apparently. Anyway, these are for you~.” She placed the plates of steaming breaded and fried mozzarella down, a little container of what Ford assumed was marinara in the center of each plate. A loud growling caught his attention and he glanced at you, then chuckled at the hungry look in your eyes. The bartender didn’t miss it either, apparently, because she laughed as she said “Dig in!” before leaving to walk back to the bar.

You grabbed one immediately and dipped it, then took a large bite…

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, and he swore he could  _ see _ the steam pouring from your mouth. He laughed gently and took another drink of his Mai Tai, feeling a warm fuzziness beginning to settle in his chest and his head.

“They’re hot…” you mumbled after having successfully swallowed your bite, and Ford snorted a laugh, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Really?” he asked, and a more genuine, real laugh escaped him when you rolled your eyes and stuck your burnt tongue out at him. He fought the urge to lean in and capture that tongue in his mouth, to kiss you silly, maybe taste the pineapple flavor still on your tongue…

“Hey there handsome,” a smooth voice said suddenly, and you both looked up to find a young woman sitting at the table. And… wow, was it just him, or was this woman not wearing enough clothing for how cool it was outside? She was beautiful, strikingly so, with baby blue eyes and thick, curly red hair, a curvaceous figure barely hidden behind a black crop top and black ripped jeans. She reached a hand out for your drink and took it, taking a small sip before putting it back down. “Mmm, that’s pretty good… Mind if I have one?” You just blinked up at her, a small smile on your lips...that quickly spread into a grin.

“Sure! See her over there? She made ours. I’m sure she’ll make you a good one, too!”

Ford watched with something akin to pleasure as the woman’s smile twitched, falling downward slightly before she could help it. Beneath the table, he couldn’t help as his hand moved to grip at your knee gently, almost possessively.

“Hm, yeah… thanks, I guess…” The woman looked totally perplexed by you, and as she turned, she twisted her black and purple ring around her finger with a frown before walking away.

What were the odds that two people wore the same ring? Maybe it was a gang thing..? Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to leave your side for the rest of the night if he could help it.

“That was weird, huh?” you asked, taking another, longer sip of your own drink. Ford picked up his own and took a drink, frowning into it as his mind worked furiously. What were the odds… “Hey, is that Stan?” Your question got his attention, enough that he looked up and saw Stan was dancing with a young woman, the same one from before he was talking to, and Ford felt himself smile ear to ear.

“Yes it is… It seems he’s found someone to spend the evening with.” You hummed thoughtfully at that, then, nibbling on another cheese stick (this time actually blowing on it so it wouldn’t burn your mouth), you smiled.

“Good, he deserves to have some fun.” Ford couldn’t agree more. “We’re so telling Mabel and Dipper about them, right?”

A chance for payback for all the embarrassment Stan dished out??

“Oh, absolutely, my love.”

-

By ten o’clock, the mozzarella sticks were all eaten, and Stan was still nowhere to be found at their table, still dancing and chatting up the lovely lady he’d met that evening. Ford kept a close eye on him but otherwise didn’t interfere, not wanting to get in the way of his brother’s romantic pursuits… if that’s what he was doing. He had no idea. But judging from how the young lady had blushed and giggled at his opening lines (probably something cheesy and outdated, if Ford had to guess), it was most definitely flirting. Something he himself knew very little about.

You were on your third Mai Tai and were leaning comfortably against his side, a smile on your lips as you watched everyone dance, foot tapping along with the beat. Ford was feeling...well, he was feeling good. Especially with the way they leaned against him more heavily with a little sigh of contentment. That definitely felt nice.

So did the hand of yours that was resting on his knee, rubbing from the top of around mid-thigh back down to his kneecap, sending little shivers down Ford’s spine. Every touch was electric, yet his brain felt slowed… It was an odd experience. He worried for a moment that he might actually be getting drunk. Eyeing the rest of his drink, he sighed quietly through his nose, lifting it and taking another sip.

“Mmm… I’m still hungry,” you say suddenly, voice soft, despite the music playing so loudly around you. He was able to hear you, just barely, and he nodded, preparing to get up. “No no, I got it, it’s okay.” Sliding out of the booth, he watched you walk away, his eyes drawn to the unmistakable sway of your hips. It wasn’t overly dramatic or anything, just a slight sway….but his eyes were attuned to it, like that was what he was made to see.

“Where’s Stanley…?” he asked no one in particular, looking out to the dance floor to see him cutting a rug (figuratively speaking) with that same girl from before. He chuckled and felt his lips quirk up into a smile, this one fond. He was happy for Stan… and was definitely going to tease him as soon as he was able. Perhaps when he was less buzzed.

Another drink from his glass, and he pulled the cherry off of the little plastic umbrella garnish and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. It was sweet, bursting across his taste buds, and… wait, where did you go again? And why weren’t you back yet? He turned his head to the direction you’d left in, feeling his brain slosh around in his skull with the movement, and his eyes widened at what he saw.

You were standing at the bar, chatting up an older gentleman, from the looks of it… Definitely younger than Ford himself, but the streaks of grey in his hair and goatee told of his age. He looked..rugged, at least from this distance, and Ford felt that hot feeling of jealousy bubble up in his gut again. Watched as he pushed a drink into your hand, expectantly, and Ford felt his stomach lurch at the thought of you drinking it. What if you were too drunk to know not to?

But you declined it, setting it on the bar and shaking your head, holding up your own drink and taking a sip of it as if to show that you already had one, you didn’t need another one.

_ Didn’t need another person, because you already had one. _

Your mouth was moving, as was theirs, and he wished he could hear what it was the two of you were saying… wait…

Ford narrowed his eyes, looking past the people collected around you at the bar. And spotting a black and purple ring on their right hand. And yeah, okay, maybe it was a coincidence… but he couldn’t get the thought out of his head that something weird was going on.

And, for once in his life, it was a kind of weird he didn’t like.

The gentleman gestured out to the dance floor, and your eyes jumped over to Ford, and you actually… looked torn? Did you want to dance so badly that you’d dance with a complete stranger? ...Was he really such a wet blanket to the evening that you’d rather dance with someone else than ask him?

You laughed, and Ford felt that jealousy bubbling up inside of him again.

One quick glance to show that, as the music changed, Stan was still dancing the night away (no doubt going to regret it tonight or tomorrow morning), and Ford got to his feet, albeit with a bit of a sway as he walked his (un)happy ass over to the bar.

“--nd I must say, your beauty is quite radiant. Simply ravishing.”

“Hehe, um, thanks? … Oh!” You turned and noticed Ford approaching, and he was happy to see that what’s-his-face with the strange ring was less than pleased, if the little eyebrow tick told him anything at all. “Sorry I took so long. I was ordering when this gentleman here offered to buy my food. I told him we already had a tab set up, but he insisted he cover it…” You honestly looked a little lost, unused to that type of treatment from strangers, no less. Ford put on a show of smiling and looped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side.

“While we appreciate it, we can handle it ourselves. Thank you,” he said cooly, giving you a small squeeze around the waist. Perhaps now this guy would back off.

_ Not that you really want him to, do you? You wish he’d come closer-- _

Whoa whoa, where did  _ that _ train of thought come from? And why was it… suddenly ten degrees hotter in this club? Ford reached up with his spare hand and pulled at the collar of his turtleneck sweater, feeling a warmth envelop his chest and face. His eyes slid up and down this supposed ‘gentleman’, flickering over to the ring… or trying to. But Ford couldn’t seem to keep his eyes up at the guy’s face where they needed to be!

When he did finally make eye-contact, he felt his knees give a little, and you called his name, concern laced within your voice.

“Sorry, I think we should go sit down…” He vaguely heard you say that, noticed it somewhere in the back of his mind, but all he could think about was the way your hand slid across his chest to his shoulder, trying to hold him up. Your touch was  _ electric _ , and he sucked in a breath. “C’mon Ford, let’s go sit down.”

Sitting down… yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Maybe he could lay in the booth and you could sit on his face, or in his lap while he--

You pulled him away from the gentleman at the bar, and Ford glanced back to see a knowing smirk on the man’s face, fingers twisting the ring round and round his fingers.

The further away they got, the easier it became to breathe, and once they reached their table, he was feeling...well, affected.

“Here, I’ll go get you some water--” you said, sitting him down gently in the booth and turning away to go do just as you’d said. His hand flew out and snatched up your wrist, pulling you back with enough force that you fell onto his lap. “Ford??”

You weren’t feeling this. How were you not  _ feeling this _ ? This… this heat, this building desire, mounting his mind and turning it to absolute mush?? He felt it earlier, too, but now it was out of control. Taking a moment to just breathe in your scent, he released a small, shuddering breath against your neck, reveling in the feel of your shiver against him.

“Stay. I just need a moment…” he murmured, pressing a line of kisses down your neck to your collar, which he gently pulled aside to reach the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Something’s wrong… Gotta be. We’re in public, Stanford!” you whispered harshly, your face and ears a glorious shade of red. It wasn’t until his tongue peeked out to dab at your flesh that you finally got up, pulling away from him with a huff. He reached for you, but the fuzziness in his mind was finally starting to clear a bit, and he realized that you two were, indeed, in public… and he’d just been having thoughts of taking you in this very booth. “Stay here.” Your voice was stern, as was your expression, however flustered you still may have been. “I’m getting you some water. I’ll be back.”

You turned on your heel and left him alone there, panting lightly and trying to gather his composure.

What in the multiverse had just happened?? He was… stars, he was seconds away from rutting against you, that’s how desperate he’d felt! And it came out of nowhere…

...no. It came once he walked over to you, over to that man you were talking with. The person with the ring. The ring.  _ The ring. _

His head snapped over to the bar where you were standing. The man was gone, but for now long? And what would the ring bearer look like now? His mind worked a mile a minute as he tried desperately to come up with some sort of explanation for what was happening.

...Maybe something weird really was going on here, afterall.

He mumbled under his breath as he thought, fingers tapping and leg jittering under the table while he tried to put the pieces together, alcohol slowing his processing.

Multiple appearances, all wearing the same ring. As soon as Ford walked up to him, he’d smelled… just like you. Almost exactly. The smell of that hotel bedroom after the two of you had made love, that not entirely unpleasant smell of you and him and sex combined. He shuddered just at the thought of it. And Ford had been, embarrassingly, drawn to him, looking him over even.

But what did it  _ mean? _ ?

His attention was caught by the man from before walking into the crowd, almost completely disappearing from view...but Ford  _ saw something _ that made everything in his brain halt.

He watched as everyone’s backs turned and he turned into someone else, his body changing and morphing into something more feminine. A shapeshifter?? But, but no! That didn't explain the, ahem... urges... that he got. And then it finally hit him, as though the final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.

“They're an incubus.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stan's pick-pocketing lessons have paid off (sort of), someone puts on a gaudy ring, there's something magical that happens, and Stan wonders about the possibilities of the future.

Ford had very little time to move, because one look told him that they were already headed right back to you at the bar. His legs still felt like jelly, and it was a little embarrassing to have to get up from the table for some obvious reasons, but he did it anyway. He had to get you out of here, because, for whatever reason, they seemed to be targeting you. And he’d be damned if he was going to let some demon wannabe have their way with you.

“Ford, here, go sit back down, I got your water--” you said, but he cut you off, grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the front door. “Wai-- Ford?? What is going on??”

“No time!” he whispered harshly, already feeling them approaching from behind the two of you, feeling the urge to kiss you and pin you against the nearest wall getting stronger. He shook his head to rid it of such thoughts, but was stopped short when you planted your feet. He turned, exasperated, only to see you looking much the same.

“What about Stan? We can’t just leave him here…” Ford’s eyes flickered over to where his brother was, leaning against one of the bars with the same girl from before. ...Stan could hold his own. But you, you needed to be  _ protected _ , needed to be kept safe, needed--

“Where are you two off to in such a hurry?” The voice was smooth as silk, but Ford felt it more than heard it, slithering down his spine and coiling in his gut like a snake. He shuddered lightly and turned to glare at the now middle-aged woman, her greying black hair flowing loose around her shoulders and her vibrant green eyes staring you down. The pressure was back, and he felt himself take a step backwards, his hold on you tightening.

“I’m sorry, but, can we help you…?” you ask, completely calm, as though you weren’t being assaulted by these thoughts and urges. ...Wait, why weren’t you?

“The ring…” he whispered to you, quiet enough only for you to hear, and he saw your head swivel to look at him. The confusion was written so clearly across your face, and oh, god, he could just kiss that look clean off right now--

His other hand moved down to his leg, pinching his thigh hard enough that his eyes watered slightly. It didn’t help, didn’t clear his head any. And all that heat in his head was moving south and fast, and he knew that if he stayed too close to this demon, then he’d do something he’d regret. The woman smiled then, saccharine sweetness dripping from every tooth as she held her right hand out to you, palm up.

“The night is still young, my dear. Why don’t we dance?” Then, her tone dipping down into sultry lows, “I promise I can show you a good time.” Ford’s knees barely buckled as a wave of… of  _ something _ emanated off of her, and he grunted in surprise as you shook off his strong hold. You were… you were going to do it. You were going to take her hand, and he’d never see you again.

“Sorry, I already have a partner.”

His head snapped up, and suddenly there was a  _ whoosh _ as something happened, and--

There was a guy standing in front of you now, looking very shocked and very confused. The feeling permeating the air went away immediately, and Ford found it much, much easier to breathe.

“W-wait… wait, what just--” The guy pat himself down, looking himself over, seemingly shocked that he looked the way he did. You grabbed Ford’s arm and stumbled a few steps backward, pressing something into his palm.

“Go back to the boat… I’ll go get Stan.” With that you ran past the man standing before the two of you, and he turned to chase. Ford glanced down and saw the purple and black ring, sparkling and glinting like something cold and dangerous in his palm. There was nothing off about it, just at a glance… but it was heavy. Far heavier than something of its small size should be. It was weighty in his hand, and he felt the strong urge to put it on, to see what would happen.

He shook his head. “No, bad idea…”

He shoved the thing in his pocket and moved to follow after you, jogging back into the club to see where you’d gone. The music seemed even louder than before, and everyone had begun to separate, couples no longer groping and grinding blindly up on one another. His eyes scanned the crowd and, after a bit of playing ‘Where’s Waldo’, found you heading toward Stan, who was still at the bar with his lady friend. The strange man who had the ring was close behind, and Ford both felt and heard his heart thudding loudly as he reached out for you.

_ Not if he could help it. _

He ran, pushing past a few people that were on his path to you with a quick apology to each, and once he was finally within reach of you, he saw something that made his blood boil.

Dickhead guy had a hand around one of your wrists, squeezing hard enough that your fist uncurled, fingers spasming slightly. The song changed again, and everyone’s attention was on the dance floor, not on the situation currently unfolding at one of the bars.

“You’ve been the only one I’ve met that wasn’t affected by my powers… why?” he asked, voice slightly nasally and with a whining quality that made it unpleasant to listen to. Or maybe that was just Ford not liking the guy, who knew? You jerked on your arm, trying to free it, and the guy just grinned, all sharp points and laughter--

A demon’s laugh. High pitched and maniacal. He had his hands on you. No, no, no, this was a nightmare. It had to be. There was no way he’d let a demon get his hands on you. Panic clawed its way up into his chest and he felt ill, eyes widening as the guy grabbed your other wist, twisting you around so your back was to his front, and your arms were crossed over themselves in front of your body. You were trapped, trapped, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Ford watched as the man pressed his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent, and oh, the white-hot  _ anger _ that filled him--

You threw your head back in that exact moment, and the man released his hold on you with a cry of pain, allowing you to stumble forward and closer to Ford and Stan, who had stood up and moved the young woman behind him. Ford felt no small amount of satisfaction to see that the guy’s nose was definitely bleeding, most likely broken.

“I’m just not that into you,” you said then, turning on your heel and grabbing Ford’s hand.

“You… that’s impossible. No, there’s got to be something else going on here!” he cried out, sounding just about as desperate and crazy as he looked right then. The way his eyes roamed over your body, lingering in certain places… Ford wanted to deck him, maybe make sure his nose was good and broken. “I’ll figure it out. I swear I will. And when I do, you’ll be  _ mine _ .”

Ford did step forward then, releasing your hand and grabbing the guy by the collar of his t-shirt, pulling him up close to his face.

“You’d do well to leave them alone… I don’t mind going back to prison.”

He released the man then and backed up until he felt you grab his hand, and he turned and pulled you toward the entrance of the club, ignoring your questions and Stanley’s calls for him to slow down.

  
  


It was only once he reached the boat that he slowed his pace, feeling safer, and he led the two of you down into the living space below deck to the bunk room. As soon as the door was closed and locked, he was upon you, pressing you against the door and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“F-Ford, what on earth was--”

“I have spent…” he began, pressing a kiss to your pulse, reveling in the feel of your body shivering against his, “this entire evening practically… watching other people come on to you, flirting with you, trying to take you away from me.” A nip accompanied that remark, and your arms moved around his neck to hold on, fingers curling into his sweater. “I am a patient man, but not so patient that I can stand watching you nearly fall into the hands of someone else.”

“There was no danger of that, Ford…” 

“But with that ring… Didn’t you feel it?” he rasped, pulling away with one final kiss to your neck to rest his forehead against yours.

“No, I didn’t feel anything. That’s what I’ve been trying to say. There’s nothing that can take me away from you.” Your hand raised to rest just over his heart, which was pounding against his ribs, and he pressed in closer to you, pressing kisses to your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, your cheek bones… everywhere except your lips.

“It was something entirely supernatural the whole time… I should have known better.” But the alcohol had slowed his processing, muddled his thinking. He knew that. “I shouldn’t have drank anything--”

“No, you were having fun,” you said gently, mumbling, and your hands slid up over his shoulders to cup his cheeks, pulling him down for a purposeful kiss. As your mouth worked against his, he felt that fuzziness returning, and that’s when he realized something.

“You’re intoxicating…” he murmured against your lips, and you chuckled, an embarrassed little sound that made him press back in for another kiss. “I mean it. You make my mind a mess. Can’t think straight with you around.”

“...Is that a bad thing?” you ask, voice so quiet, and he groans softly as he pulls you in for yet another press of lips. That was his only answer, and hopefully it would suffice, because words were failing him at that particular moment. You must’ve gotten the message, though, because you pressed yourself bodily against him, and he felt his hands drop of their own accord to your hips, giving a small squeeze.

***NSFW START***

His tongue boldly traced the seam of your lips and you opened immediately, letting him twine his tongue with yours. You tasted of pineapple, tart and strong, but it wasn’t so strong that it overpowered you. He swallowed up your whimper with another, deeper kiss before pulling away, breath coming a bit more heavily than before.

It was unusual for him to be out of his element, out of his own control, and… it was honestly thrilling. The alcohol muddling his thought processes, the unexplainable lust from before, when they were around that demon of an incubus--

...His mind latched onto a terrible, awful idea, and before he could even think to stop himself, he was pulling the ring from before out of his pocket. He grabbed one of your hands from his face and pressed the cool metal ring into your palm, and it took you a few seconds to realize what it was he was doing.

“...Are you sure this is a good idea, Ford?”

“I’m just curious to see its effects, that’s all,” he said, licking his lips nervously as he nodded. “I’m sure… Put it on.”

You looked a little less sure, but your eyes held a trust that made him want to lean in and kiss you again. It was with that, that you slid the ring onto your ring finger on your right hand, watching with no small amount of amazement as it form fitted itself to your finger. There was a glow, a purple sheen coming off of the ring, and then, everything went hazy.

Desire.

It pooled at the base of his spine, filled his lungs, until every breath was just heat and need and yearning. He shivered bodily and leaned his weight against you, door creaking slightly in protest.

“Ford? Are you okay??” You were worried, so he assuaged your worries with a kiss, pressing his lips to yours for only a moment before his tongue slid out to tangle with yours. His hands went back to your hips, sliding up underneath the edge of your shirt, and oh, he felt like he lost a bit of his sanity at feeling your skin against his. He broke away from the kiss with a gasp for breath, panting against your neck.

“I need...need to feel you. Please,” he mumbled softly, squeezing your hips and rubbing circles against the skin there. His hands slid up more, resting against your lowermost rib before dragging back down, and he groaned as you shivered against him. He was already hard, pressing against your thigh with little movements of his hips, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he worried this was too much for you. He pulled away to look at your face, to see how you were taking all this…

...He didn’t expect to see the desire on your face, as well. Did you actually  _ like _ this? It made sense. Being in a position of power was so unusual to you, but you were someone who liked having control… even if it was just small things. He should have known that you would be okay with this… more than okay.

“Okay,” you murmured, voice gentle, “okay,” and you cupped his face with your hands, which he immediately turned into, pressing kisses against your palms. And then you’re pulling your hands away, away from him completely, and he catches himself before he makes a small noise of protest. He was never this way… was this the power of the ring? Or was this you that was doing this to him? “Get undressed,” came your oh-so gentle voice, “and get up there and wait for me.” You nod towards the top bunk, and he is quick in shedding himself of his clothing. It was feeling too warm and stuffy with them on, anyway. His glasses nearly topple off of his face when he pulls his turtleneck off over his head, but he catches them, righting them and putting them where they’re supposed to go. Next are his pants, and he realizes with only a single shred of embarrassment that he’s already hard, straining against his slacks with all his might. Swallowing thickly, he ran his palm over the front of his pants once, twice, before fumbling with the button and zip.

Then he was breathing out a groan, so soft, as his pants pooled around his ankles, some of the restrictive pressure off of his lower regions. He stumbled as he tried to kick off the offending article of clothing, grabbing hold of the bunk frame to keep from falling over as his feet finally came free, and it was in that moment that he bothered to look over at you. You, who was peeling off your button-up overshirt, revealing the black tank-style binder beneath. Your shoulder muscles flexed as you shrugged it off, and he felt heat coil in his gut at the sight.

“Go on, then,” you said softly, glancing at him over your shoulder, eyes half-lidded, and even though you weren’t looking at him in any particular way, he felt his stomach do flips in his abdomen. Leaving on his boxer briefs (this one with the periodic table printed across it), he clambered up the ladder and to the top bunk, settling himself uncomfortably against the wall. Uncomfortable only because it was cold, the wall of the ship was, and his skin felt sensitive all over.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling, for what felt like an hour… was he really so eager that his concept of time was skewed? It was almost embarrassing, but he couldn’t find himself to care too much about it, especially when he heard the creaks from the ladder telling him you were coming up to join him. You collapsed onto the mattress with a huff of a laugh, your shoulders brushing just barely, yet it was enough to send a shiver through him. The light from the ring was glinting and dull, but it was still there, drawing his attention to it… as well as to how he was feeling in that moment.

More aroused than he’d ever been in his life? Check. More needy when it came to feeling your touch? Check. Wanting to kiss you until neither of you could breathe right? Check.

His body felt so hot, like a fire was burning in his bones, beneath his skin. But that gentle touch of bare shoulders made it subside slightly, made it feel less like a burning and more like a warming. His hands moved over to you and, after a frustrating moment of not being able to properly reach, he rolled onto his side free hand skimming over every bit of bare skin he could find. You’d chosen to leave your binder on, so he avoided that area covered with black fabric… but other than that, your shoulders, your neck, collarbones, your stomach, all of it was fair game to his wandering fingertips.

“Ford…” His name left your lips in a murmur and he felt his heart soar at the sound, breath hitching slightly when your hand caught his, threading your fingers together. “Let me touch you, too.” You carefully coerced him into laying flat on his back again, and though you were holding one hand, his other hand immediately went out to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against the soft skin of your cheekbone. You chuckled and turned to press a kiss to his palm, then to his wrist, then down the inside of his forearm, and by the time you reached his elbow, he was having trouble breathing. You ran your hand up against the hair on his forearm, switching to kissing at his neck, and he could’ve died happy.

When your tongue slid out to play against his pulse, your name left his lips in a rush of air, his hips lifting off of the bed. Your eyes flickered downward, and then you sat up the most you could in the cramped space and leveled yourself with his cock, throbbing against the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. You touched your index finger to the clothed head, to which he groaned, and you pulled away, rubbing your thumb and forefinger together. He must’ve been leaking already, how embarrassing… but he couldn’t find it in him to give a damn.

“What do you need, Ford?” you asked, and he shuddered, legs jittering as you ran your hands up his thighs to his hips. Ford… Ford. That was his name, right? Your fingertips teased beneath the waistband of his underwear and he let out a short sound, high in his throat, almost like a whine.

“You. Stars,  _ you _ , you’re all I need right now, all I want…” He stared down at you, watching your lips curl up gently into a warm smile, and he nearly sobbed in relief when you began to pull down his boxer briefs. No comments at the periodic table, but he was glad for that. He didn’t think he could have an intelligent conversation right now even if he  _ wanted to. _ He lifted his hips to help aid you in removing them and, after a moment of pulling them down his legs, they were at the foot of the bunk. He reached for you again, and you grasped his wrists gently, pulling them away from your body.

“Shhh Ford, it’s okay, I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

And he got ample warning, but, had he been standing, his knees would have buckled beneath him at just how good it felt to have your hand around his dick in that exact moment. You stroked him in hand, from base to head, giving a small twist of your wrist at the head before going back down, and his hips began to lift into your hand. It felt like the heat beneath his skin was energizing, making him unable to hold still, however much he may have wanted to. Your cheek rested against his thigh, and he caught your loving stare and felt his face flush more than it already was.

Good god, he loved you.

He was in the middle of thinking of just how much when he saw you moving, blown pupils taking in every bit of minimal light in the cramped bunk. The kiss to the tip of his cock was teasing, and he felt his hands itching to tangle in your hair. But, mercifully, you opened your mouth, lips parting to allow him to slide inside, and he let out an embarrassingly loud groan. He quickly raised a hand to cover his mouth, but you snagged it, pulling it back down and pulling off of him-- oh god,  _ why, it was feeling so good _ \-- to hum your disapproval at him. Then you went right back to work, and he felt his end coming embarrassingly quick already.

“Love, I--  _ god, please-- _ I-I’m not going to last if you--” You pulled off of him, torturously slow, and his head flew back and hit the pillow with enough force that the back of his head ached. His hands twitched with the want to put you right back where you’d been, and he instead chose to fist the blankets between all twelve fingers, teeth sinking down into his bottom lip.

“Okay, okay… Let’s rest for a minute, okay? Just… just touch me, for now, okay?”

He took that permission and ran with it, hell, practically flew with it, his hands releasing their hold on the blankets and instead moving to rove over your body. He dipped a hand between your legs and groaned when he felt wetness seeping through your underwear. His mouth watered at the thought, and he started moving downward with purpose, but your hands on his shoulders stopped him. When he looked up at your face, he saw uncertainty there, and, through the haze of heat and arousal, he stopped.

“I’m not… feeling comfortable with penetration of any kind…” He huffed out a quiet breath when your legs repositioned themselves, spreading wider apart, and you held out a small, cylindrical object toward him. It had a single button on the top that, when he pressed it, the whole thing began to vibrate in his hand. “...But, if you’re okay with it, you can use this.” You were biting on your bottom lip, and oh, he couldn’t have that. He climbed back up the bed to you and took your lip between his own teeth, suckling and nibbling on it for a good minute before pulling away. The device was still buzzing in his hand, and he had something to get back to.

Carefully, slowly, he trailed the vibrator down your body, skipping over your chest and moving right for your stomach. It dipped into the hollow of your navel, and he delighted in the shiver you gave as it grew closer and closer to your obvious arousal.

Your sharp intake of breath was like music to his ears, more sweet than any song he’d ever heard, and the soft moan you slowly exhaled was a close second. A curse left your lips, long and drawn out and all soft, like a whisper, and he rut against the mattress to get some semblance of relief.

The buzzing was beginning to make his fingers tingle and grow numb, but still he kept at it, sliding the rounded end along your cloth-covered slit, raising it up slowly until--

“ _ Ah! _ Shit…” He felt himself smile against your thigh, hiding it behind a kiss pressed to your hip as he pressed the vibrator more purposefully against what had to be your clit. Your legs twitched under his hand and cheek, hips seemingly torn between rutting up into it and pulling away from it, caught in a pleasurable limbo. You gave little huffs of air for every exhale, and, after a few minutes like this, you grabbed his wrist, holding it still for a moment before pulling away. Your fingers trembled under his wrist, and he wanted to put it back, to taste your tongue as you came and swallow up any moans and cries you spilled past your lips. But he didn’t, he behaved, and instead set the device, still buzzing, aside.

“What do I…” He licked his lips, pulling himself away from the tantalizing sight of your soaked underwear in favor of pulling himself up your body, hovering just over you while he pressed a needy kiss to your lips. “What do-- you-- I mean--” He stopped, resting his head against your shoulder, and you gave a soft chuckle, petting your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. “...What do you want me to do?”

You held up a small object in the dark that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a still-wrapped condom. “Do what makes you feel good. Just… no penetration.” And this puzzled him, because what else… what else  _ was _ there?

Seemingly able to sense his trouble, you tore open the condom wrapper with your teeth (he didn’t understand the bolt of heat he felt curl down his spine at the sight) and applied the condom with careful fingers, giving small, teasing rubs to the underside of the head of his cock before pulling away.

“I don’t know, I don’t…. I need--” His whispers were silenced with another kiss that he groaned into, rutting against your thigh with the same sort of desperation that had soaked into his voice. You shushed him and coaxed him gently into laying on his side, grabbing a small bottle of a clear substance and squeezing some out onto your fingers. It was lube, he quickly realized this as you spread it all across the surface of the condom, giving little twisting, teasing motions of your hand along his dick. Then, he felt confusion flood his brain when you turned away from him. But then you scooted back into him, until your ass was pressed against his pelvis, and you lifted your leg just enough that his dick could slide easily between your thighs. With your thighs pressed tightly together, he shuddered and pressed heated, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, groaning.

“Move, Ford,” you murmured, reaching for the ever buzzing vibrator and, though he couldn’t see, the tension that returned to your thighs meant you must have returned it to your clit. He pulled his hips back a fraction, and the slide was so deliciously good, he pressed back in almost immediately, not bothering to be slow when there was no real risk of hurting you. His knees curled into yours and his hands moved to grip tightly at your hips, pulling you back with every thrust.

“So good, so--  _ god _ , this isn’t even the ring, this is just what you  _ do to me _ , love. Can’t hardly stand it, drives me insane sometimes, makes it hard to  _ think _ \--” He babbled as he got close, listening to your whines and moans, as stifled as they were, was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. The pressure was building, heat growing higher and higher as flames of desire licked their way down his spine and to his pelvis, and, without too much thought, he reached around you and felt for your hand. He slid the ring off and let it rest on the mattress, and while the overwhelming scent of you had subsided, the desire had not, and he choked on a laugh and a moan. “Yes,  _ yes,  _ it’s you, it’s all you. I love you so-- much!” His hips jerked forward, trying to bury himself between your thighs as he came, filling the condom and shuddering against your back.

“C’mon… please…” Your whispered pleas met his ears and he pushed himself to sit up, kissing a trail down your neck and pressing his tongue against your pulse before dragging it upward to your jaw.

“What can I do?” he asked against your skin, wanting to help but not sure how.

“Just…  _ ngh, fuck-- _ just talk to me. Tell me how good it was, something--”

He pulled you close to his body, back against his broad chest as his wide hands pet from your thigh up to your ribs. He licked his lips nervously. He’d never really done this sort of talking before, and was worried he’d mess it up… but a particularly desperate-sounding whine from you spurred him into action.

“You’re so beautiful-- handsome-- brilliant, can’t believe you’re mine…” Images from the club, of that incubus flirting with you, came to mind, and he squeezed your hip hard, giving one good rut against your ass while he nipped at where your neck met shoulder. “You are, you know. Mine.  _ Mine. _ And  _ no one  _ is going to ever take you away from me, not  _ anyone _ .” You moaned weakly, and he let his voice drop down into a lower range, all gravelly and husky with arousal. “You’re doing so good, love. So good. Love watching you like this, squirming and making noises that only  _ I _ get to hear.”

Your knees spasmed, legs kicking out slightly as your thighs shook. You were getting close, he presumed, and must have been having trouble getting there, if the frustrated groan you gave meant anything.

His hand slid from your thigh to your hand, taking the vibrator out of your hand and pressing it to your clit himself. You gripped at his forearm, fingertips digging in slightly as your head leaned back against his shoulder.

“Come undone for me, love. Let me watch you in bliss.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to the center of the back of your neck, and you shivered, voice heightening just enough that he worried if the other boats might be able to hear. One more quick angle of his hips against your ass, and you cried out, clinging to his forearm as you rode out the waves of your pleasure on the vibrator.

“Gah! Too much, too much, Ford--” You weakly cried out, hips trying to move away from the toy, but they ended up pressing harder against his. Ford groaned and moved to push the button on the toy.

The buzzing grew louder, and you grew more frantic at trying to get away. He pulled the toy away from you this time and pushed the button a few more times until, finally, it shut off. The boat was much quieter than it had been, save for your labored breathing and his huffs of laughter.

“Sorry, I uh… I don’t really know how these things work,” he admitted sheepishly, and you rolled over, mouth open to say something perhaps, but then shut it. Instead, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his in a somewhat clumsy kiss, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to tug you closer while he returned it.

After a moment just being like that, he sighed and pulled away, jerking his head toward the bathroom. “I should, uh… dispose of this,” he said awkwardly, and you chuckled at him as he shimmied out of the bunk and, after a quick look to make sure Stan wasn’t anywhere below deck, removed the condom and wrapped it in tissue before tossing it into the trash can.

***NSFW END***

[  _ NSFW TLDR; After all of the unintentional teasing at the club, Ford and Reader end up having sex back on the Stan-O-War II. Ford tells Reader to put on the strange ring from the “Incubus”, and it increases their sexual attractiveness or something else Ford can’t quite understand right then. With an almost aphrodisiac-like effect, they have a rousing bout of intercrural sex and a little fun with a vibrator. _ ]

He climbed as quickly as he could back up into the bunk, where you were already under the covers, waiting for him with open arms. He couldn’t help but grin and go into them eagerly, laying his head against your chest for a moment, listening to your still quickened heartbeat and chuckling when your hands came up to pet over his hair, no doubt mussing it further.

“Love you, Ford,” you murmured, already sounding half asleep, and he moved up to kiss you, all warmth and softness and love.

“I love you, too, my love. Always.” A kiss to your lips, your cheeks, your forehead, and you were smiling up at him, pulling him down to cuddle before you fell asleep.

-

Stan’s POV

He had drank a little too much, and danced a lot more, but damn if he hadn’t had some of the best fun in a long while. And he got a pretty young woman’s phone number out of the deal, too. Maybe the promise of adventure in his future was what was most exciting, or maybe it was something else… or maybe the alcohol still in his system. But whatever it was, it was early morning, and he was making his way toward the docks where the Stan-O-War II was safely kept.

His text messages had gone unanswered, which was unusual, especially for Ford, but he chalked it up to him having been drinking and then whatever weirdness had gone on at The Club before they left. The goodbye had been sweet, with only the slightest taste of bitterness as he left his favorite dance since he last danced with his Ma.

Ahh, that wasn’t a route he wanted to walk down right now. He’d rather enjoy his buzz and the memories of a good dance. His knees and hips ached from it, and the beginnings of complaint from his lower back could be heard, but he didn’t care. It was all worth it.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as he walked below deck of the Stan-O-War II, managing only to lock the door behind him before he scrunched up his nose.

The smell of sex lingered in the air, and he was definitely going to be giving Sixer a talk in the morning over their coffee about maybe renting a place next time they were off the sea. He frowned, kicking Ford’s pants gently into a corner-- no doubt that’s where the phone he wasn’t answering was laying. A small bit of anxiety uncurled and loosened in his chest. At least his brother and sib-in-law were safe, that’s what was most important. He’d have to give them both a scolding in the morning.

...But as he turned to send the two of them an annoyed glare, he couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of them. You, curled on your side, Ford with his arms wrapped around you so protectively, even in sleep. Hell, even your legs were tangled together, he bet. The fond smile that wanted to tug up at the corners of his lips made him curse under his breath, and he grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom to change into his sleep clothes.

Maybe someday he’d be able to have something like that… And, as the phone number in his pocket fell and fluttered to the ground, he knelt and picked it up with a small sigh.

Maybe… someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you liked what you read?? Then that's awesome! You should let me know with a comment or something, keep me motivated and doing what we all love! :heart:
> 
> Also! I'll be taking one-shot requests for Ford/Reader and Stan/Reader, sooooo yeah! Leave me a request in a comment or hit me up on my Tumblr or on Discord (Brit#6468). Thanks for reading, and hope you have an awesome day!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promise is made, a video call brings news, and there's an awkward sibling talk.

Ford’s POV

The smell of frying bacon and something else mildly sweet permeated the air, sliding beneath the gap under the door to the bunk room and wafting up into the top bunk. Ford slowly felt himself come to, cracking an eye open and seeing nothing but blackness. Panic coiled in his gut for a moment until that darkness shifted, and he realized he was face-first laying against your chest, which rose and fell subtly with your breathing.

“You up?” came your soft voice, still slightly groggy-sounding from sleep, and he tilted his chin up to look at you properly. The smile on your face made his heart do little flips in his chest, heat rising to his face as he slowly began to remember the night prior. You snorted, whether it was at his expression or the redness in his cheeks, he didn’t know, and pulled him closer. “C’mere.” He wants to pull away, because morning breath can’t be very pleasant for either of you, but when your lips touch his, he finds himself caring less and less about that sort of thing and more about the softness of your lips. When you part from him, it’s to press another kiss to his forehead. “We should get up before Stan eats all the breakfast.”

“Yes, we probably should,” he chuckled, hoping that perhaps the events of last night would stay with last night… but he’d get little flashes in his mind, of his behavior, how he  _ acted _ , so desperate and like a horny teenager about to get his first lay, and it was...embarrassing.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, and shit, he hadn’t wanted to bother you with something so small. He reaches up to rub at his eyes, realizing he’d left his glasses on, even, and sighed.

“I don’t… It’s nothing to worry yourself with, my dear. It’s trivial.”

“If it’s bothering you, then it’s not trivial to me, Ford… But if you don’t want to talk about it, then that’s okay.”

And even though you’d just said that he didn’t need to discuss it if he didn’t want to, somehow he  _ did  _ want to. Enough that, when you started your shuffle down the bed, he put his hands on your shoulders, stopping you. Your eyes met his, and he averted, looking upward at the ceiling.

“I ah…I just wanted to apologize.” Good start. “For last night.” His eyes flickered back to your face, and you were frowning slightly, just enough for him to notice. “...What?”

“Nothing, nothing, just--… I didn’t see anything wrong with last night?” He felt his face slacken slightly, mouth dropping open a bit, and you reached up to cup his cheeks, which were quickly warming more by the second. “I mean… To be honest? It was nice.”

He scoffed, “You mean to tell me you liked it when… when…” You raised a brow at him, and he fell silent.

“...When I felt more wanted and desired than I ever have in my entire existence?” Ford swallowed hard, eyes widening slightly as he stared at you, your own face taking on a tinge of red now. “You were… I don’t know if it was just the ring or what, but you made me feel-- ...heh, nevermind.”

“Made you feel what?” he asked, a tad too quickly for his liking, but then again, it seemed to catch you by surprise, as well. You didn’t answer for a moment, embarrassment and nervousness conflicting for room in your expression. After a moment, you sighed, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve… always kinda felt like people ‘settled’ with me, y’know? But thanks to that ring, last night, I felt… like I was exactly what you wanted and needed… even if just for that purpose and that moment.”

“...You think that… I’ve settled with you?” he felt himself ask, his voice quiet, and your eyes widened, shaking your head quickly.

“No! I… well, I mean, sometimes, but--”

“Sometimes??” You shrank, pulling away from him a bit and curling your arms over your chest, which he just realized you slept in the binder he made you. “I’m… I’m sorry, Ford, I just--”

“No.” He cupped your jaw and made you look up at him, frowning, his brows furrowed. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” And, stars, you actually looked confused at that, your own brows, thinner than his own, drawing together in the middle. “For not making you… not making you feel like that every day you’ve been with me. You’re… my d-datemate, for star’s sake.”

“Ford…” you murmured, face colored with surprise, and he shook his head, leaning forward until your foreheads touched. “I’m sorry, for not being enough to--”

He shut you up with a kiss then, hard and unyielding, not giving you the room nor the breath to finish that train of thought. And he realized now, of all times, that maybe the reason you and Stanley bonded so well was because you two had so much in common. Not thinking you were enough for anyone… God, how many years of your life have you lived feeling like that? And to think he added to the number of people you ‘weren’t enough for’. It made his stomach roll and his heart clench in his chest.

“You’re not allowed to apologize for something like that ever again.” His voice was stern, and when he pulled away, it was to meet your misty eyes with his own. “Because it’s not  _ true _ .” Your eyes fluttered a bit, your face turning to look more at the ceiling, but he captured your lips again, and you let out a weak sound against his lips. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know it’s not true, if that’s what it takes.”

Your eyes widen then, and they’re glassy, definitely like you’re about to cry any second now, and he takes a second to register what he’d just said.

“I-I mean I…” he began, backtracking, or beginning to… but then he felt something loosen in his chest, felt himself relax. “No… I… I said exactly what I meant…” He pulled back, holding you at half-arm’s length, and the way you were just...staring at him, he was worried if maybe he’d done something bad here. “I… I love you very dearly. And-- I mean, should it come to it that it’s necessary, for whatever reasons there may be, then I would be more than happy to--” He blinked slowly, shaking his head. “Wait, wait, I’m sorry, I was just about to ask you without actually asking you.”

You let out a watery laugh then, shoulders hunching up around your ears. “What are you even talking about??”

“I’m trying to figure out how to ask you to marry me!”

The silence stretched longer than Mabel’s favorite bubble gum, and, after a while, he opened his mouth to speak, but just… the words died on his tongue. Tears slipped down over the bridge of your nose from the corner of your eye, landing with a little wet splash on the sheets, and he wasn’t sure if the tears were good or bad-- your expression was mainly neutral. And god, that  _ scared him _ something fierce. Because despite how well you tried, your expression was never neutral, always some hint of emotion in your face, or in your eyes, or in your body language. But here you were still, blinking slowly at him, supposedly rolling over his exclamation in your head, and he was afraid.

_ Since when was he so afraid to be told ‘no’? _

“You don’t mean it…” were the soft, mumbled words that came past your lips, and he felt like he got punched in the gut.

“Yes, I do--”

“No you don’t. The Ford I know isn’t the type to want to marry someone. Wouldn’t want to just because of-- … Y-you don’t mean it…” You sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself, and so he reached for you, stopping you from roughly scrubbing at your eyes with the heels of your palms, and you flinched when he said your name, insistent, desperate.

“I’ve never meant anything more.” You opened your mouth, to call him a liar, surely, and he rushed to cover the silence. “Before, I never had a reason to believe marriage was a viable option. I never thought I’d be the type because I’d never found anyone I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with like this.” Your mouth closes slowly, and he takes that as a sign, a sign that you’re listening to him, hearing him. “I was happy, with my family, before you came along… But with you?” He felt his own eyes water a bit as he laughed softly. “I’ve found the perfect balance of everything I need in life… And I want it to stay. For good.” His hands, wrapped so gently around your wrists, move to hold your hands, and you squeeze fiercely as a little sob breaks past your lips. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, and he felt his heart soar when you returned the gesture, kissing each and every one of his twelve knuckles.

“You… you mean it....?” you ask, so hesitant, that he can’t help but surge forward and press a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. It pulls you out of your shell a bit more, and you’re melting into it, the tears increasing in their frequency, but he decides that they’re okay now. They’re okay and good.

“I’ve never meant anything more,” he repeated, his face breaking into a grin. “So what do you say…?”

You knocked your forehead against his, sniffling, and when he opened his eyes from the initial impact, you were smiling so beautifully that he felt his heart shudder.

“God, one of you say ‘yes’ already!”

You both turned to the doorway to the kitchen, where Stan was standing, his eyes decidedly misty and what was obviously a faux annoyed expression on his face. He shot his brother an annoyed glare, though it lacked any real heat to it, and when he looked back at you, you were staring at him with a small smile.

“I think I’ll enjoy becoming a Pines… if you’ll have me.”

He kissed you again, and once more for good measure, both of you chuckling at the retching sound Stan made from the doorway.

“Always.”

-

Stan’s POV

Breakfast was made, the stancakes that burned to the pan while he was listening at the doorway thrown overboard to feed some poor fish while he set to making the next batch. You were sitting at the booth that hugged one side of the table, tucked into Ford’s side so tightly that Stan had difficulty discerning who began and who ended. But that was fitting, especially after what had just transpired.

Once the final stancakes were made and flipped onto a waiting plate, he set the pan on a cool burner and turned to the table, setting on it the pancakes and bacon before sliding into the opposite booth and trying not to think too hard about how empty his side felt.

“So, you two set a date yet?” he asked, the beginnings of a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth as Ford glanced up from where he was grabbing a few pancakes, brows furrowed.

“It literally just-- … You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?”

“Uh, no? Why would I?” he asked with a laugh, and Ford’s groan only made him snicker more. “Look, my brother’s getting married. Never thought I’d see the day--”

“Thank you  _ so much _ , Stanley--”

“--so of course I’m gonna be excited and whatnot. ‘Sides, this means I get a new sibster, and that’s also something to celebrate.” He grabbed a handful of bacon slices and plopped two pancakes onto his plate, tapping your leg under the table with his foot, and chortling when your face flushed and you smiled at him.

“We’re going to have to call Dipper and Mabel…” you say softly, and Ford groans again while Stan just grins. “They’re going to be upset if we don’t tell them sooner rather than later, y’know. That, and… I’m kind of excited to tell them, too.”

Ford wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer (was that even possible?) and pressing a kiss to the side of your head with a sigh that ruffled your hair. “I suppose we do, don’t we?” He was smiling, though, so Stan could tell he wasn’t really upset about it.

“I’ll have to turn my hearing aid down for that call,” he said, his grin hiking up a bit higher. “Mabel is gonna be ecstatic and it’s gonna get loud.”

“I wonder if Dipper is gonna do that thing,” you said with a laugh, and both men looked at you with raised brows. You held your hands out, palms up and fingers splayed. “Y’know, where he clicks his pen,” you imitated the motion, “and just stares with that look on his face like he’s trying to figure something out.”

“Ahh… If I know him at all, probably,” Ford said, taking a small, syrupy bite of his pancake, and Stan snorted a laugh.

“Prolly ask a million questions, while he’s at it… or get so flustered by the idea of romance that he clams up.”

  
  
  


Breakfast passed in relative amicable silence, save for a bit of ribbing from him toward his brother and-- holy shit, his betrothed, now-- from Stan. His brother just seemed more flustered than anything, not really angry by the teasing, and you were staring at Ford, just… on cloud nine? Was that the right way to put it? Probably. God, you two were cheesier than a grilled cheese special from Greasy’s diner (and goddamn, they used seven different kinds).

Once the food was all eaten (and Stan had made a lot for celebration’s sake), you popped up from the booths first and stood to do dishes… however complicated that was, considering you had eaten using disposable utensils and plates. The pan did need scrubbing, though, and Stan was grateful to you for not having to scrub at it until it was clean. He was getting old, and that kind of shit was hard on your hands.

The buzz of a phone in his pocket drew his attention, however, and before he could thank you, he pulled out the small device and saw the flashing notification waiting for him. He smiled ear to ear, unlocking his phone immediately and replying to the text message he’d gotten from Mabel.

[Dipper&Mabel]: M- Hey!!! Are you guys ready for our regularly scheduled video call??

[Stan]: As ready as I’ll ever be I suppose! It’s too damn early for your ruckus.

[Stan]: But I guess since it’s you two I can deal with it.

[Dipper&Mabel]: M- Shut up, you love us!

Even without the M signifying it was her, he could just tell. There was a sort of strange energy over text that could be heard and felt, and these had all the signs of containing that typical Mabel energy.

[Stan]: Yeah yeah, you two are a nuisance and I’m glad to have the personal space.

He followed that up, after a few agonizing seconds, with a heart emoji, because the last thing he’d want was for his pumpkin to misunderstand something over text. In voice? Sure, they could tell when he was fibbing, but through text was different.

[Dipper&Mabel]: M- Awwww you’re the best! Anyway, here we go!

A ringing sound coming from the laptop hooked up in the bunk room, followed by Ford calling out that the kids were calling, was enough to make him laugh and shake his head. That girl was somethin’ else… and he kinda loved her for it. A few seconds, and he could already hear her eager voice coming from the other room.

“Good morning!!” she cheered, and as he came into the room, he saw you and Ford sitting hip to hip on the bottom bunk, laptop in Ford’s lap.

“Good morning, Mabel, dear,” his brother said, smiling as though he didn’t have the biggest secret in the world to keep from ‘Mabel, dear’. You gave a little wave, and then Dipper’s voice was heard, too, cracking slightly on his ‘morning’ before he cleared his throat, saying it again with more clarity. “Good morning to you, too, Dipper.”

“It’s nice to see you two. It feels like forever since we last saw you!” you said, and Stan could relate. Despite having frequent calls, it just wasn’t the same as having the two teenage gremlins running around getting into mischief with you.

“I knooooow, right??” Mabel added some extra dramatization to her voice, dragging out the ‘o’ in ‘know’ for emphasis. “It’s only been like, what, a week? But it feels like foreverrrrrrrr!”

“Mabel, it has literally been a week,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes. Then, with what Stan assumes could be a blush or screen discoloration, he adds, “Though I admit I’ve missed you all, too.”

“Heh, it is kinda nice to hear from ya again,” Stan piped up, and Mabel drew in a slow, deep breath.

“I feel love in this chili’s tonight.” Before Stan or Ford could ask what the heck she meant (you were giggling to yourself at her comment), Mabel clapped her hands together, more glitter and...what looked like sequins??...falling out of her sleeves. “So! Speaking of love! Dipper and I have an announcement to make.”

“Hahaa...Mabel, we really don’t need to talk about that, right?” her brother asked, eyes widened slightly as he laughed nervously.

“Actually… we have something we need to announce, as well,” Ford began, and wow, way to go Sixer for taking the initiative. You even looked slightly surprised.

“Let’s say it at the same time!!” Mabel squealed. “This’ll be fun! Kinda like a two-in-one reveal!”

“I’m pretty sure they won’t be able to understand a thing we say--”

“Shhhh Dipping Sauce, I swear, if you ruin this for me, I will _ tell on you _ .” That shut Dipper up real quick, and his face was flushed a bright red.

“Very well,” Ford said, looking a little more nervous now, though it might have only been noticeable to him. The eldest Pines twin looked over at you, and you gave him a smile so reassuring that some of that nervousness melted away, and his hand reached for yours. 

“Okay, ready? Grunkle Stan, count it down!” Mabel pointed at him through the camera display, and he chuckled.

“Alright, alright…” He scooched in to your side, the opposite of the one Ford was occupying, and held a hand up, counting on his fingers. “3… 2… 1… Go!”

Mabel and Dipper drew in a breath at the same time you and Ford did, and you both spoke over each-other.

“We’re dating Pacifica--”

“We’re getting married--”

The chaos of four people speaking at the same time ended abruptly, silence filling the small cabin as each of them processed what was said.

“...Haha, wow, that’s a lot to take in, ain’t it?” Stan asked jokingly, bumping shoulders with you, who was staring at the screen, then slowly moving your eyes over to Ford, who looked… well, confused.

“Wait. You’re both dating the same perso--”

A high-pitched scream broke through the speakers at that moment, and all three of you flinched at the sound. Dipper was covering his ears while Mabel jumped up and down excitedly.

“OhmiGOSH, I can’t believe this! Dipper, did you hear that??”

“Pretty sure I can’t hear much of anything anymore…” She latched onto his arm and hugged it to her chest while he sputtered and tried to shake her off. “Mabel, let go!”

“I can’t! I can’t deal! Grunkle Ford, you  _ proposed??? _ ”

“I…” Ford swallowed visibly and nodded, and another scream came from the speakers, though this one was, thankfully, muffled by Dipper’s hand.

“This might take a while, sorry guys--  _ eugh!! _ Did you just  _ lick me _ ??” Sure enough, Dipper pulled away his hand, shiny with spit, and Mabel was panting, looking victorious for a moment. That look immediately changed to a frown, disappointment in her eyes.

“You proposed and I  _ missed it??? _ ” She pouted, and Stan looked up to see Ford scratching his neck, or what bit of it was exposed over his turtleneck.

“It wasn’t like it was a planned thing,” you said gently, glancing between the disappointed teen and your fiance’s face.

“I mean, I know that, but I thought he’d at least have the patience to wait until when we all got back to Gravity Falls!” Ford raised a brow, frowning slightly in embarrassment.

“Weren’t you the one asking me when I was gonna do it in the first place?” he asked, and Stan snickered when Mabel just waved a hand at him dismissively.

“Yeah yeah, that’s not an important detail. What’s more important is…” She gasped suddenly then, like she’s just realized something, and she pushes herself into the frame of the camera more fully, until she’s below the webcam, no doubt pressing her face against the screen itself. “Wait! Can I see your ring??”

“Ah… Actually, I don’t have one yet--”

“What???”

“Mabel, you’re making them uncomfortable!” Dipper scolded, pulling his sister back so he could once again be seen on the video feed. He sighed, “Sorry. She’s just been so geared up for this happening… I think she’s getting a little carried away.” He said that last bit pointedly towards her, and she had the grace to look a little sheepish.

“Yeah… Sorry, Grunkle Ford, I was just so excited! I’ve been hoping and hoping that you’d get engaged for so long…” Her face scrunched up a bit as she smiled, the pure bean she was, and pointed at the camera. “And now I’m gaining a Gruntie! This is the best day of my life!”

“A what now?” Stan asked, unable to help himself as he snorted a laugh. Mabel put her hands on her hips, fixing him with a serious look.

“A ‘Gruntie’! A mix between Great Untie. Noun. Said like ‘gruhn-tee’ but spelled G-R-U-N-T-I-E.” Stan couldn’t help but break out into laughter at how seriously she was breaking this down for him, and he glanced over to see if you two were sharing in the humor of this, but stopped short when he saw the look on your face. Your eyes were definitely shiny, the light from the screen reflecting off of them, and moisture had begun to gather in the corners. The smile on your face was bright and warm, like the sun, and he reached over to pat your knee.

“So? How’s it feel, knowin’ you’re gonna be a Gruntie to a couple of knuckleheaded teens?” he asked, already anticipating your answer in the way you reached up to rub at your eyes, smile widening so much he thought it might split your face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you guys.”

“Awwwwww… We love you too!” Mabel cooed, squishing her cheeks with her hands, and Dipper just kind of coughed into his fist and looked away, face flushed as he muttered a quick ‘Yeah, uh, you, too.’

“Now… what was this about you two dating someone?” Ford asked, and Stan snickered as he watched Dipper get more and more tense. “Pacifica, you said? ...As in, Pacifica Northwest?”

“Uh… Look, we should be focusing on your engagement, not--”

“Yes!!” Mabel squealed, grinning ear to ear. “I knew she had a thing for DipDop, but when he told me that she liked me, too, I was just… ahhhh!!” Another scream, though this one was shorter, not quite as loud. “I didn’t think it would be  _ okay _ , y’know? But… but it is. And it’s awesome! We text all the time, and we have plans to go on our first date once we get back to Gravity Falls.”

“Uh, yeah, same here…” Dipper piped up, voice tense. Then, after no one said anything for a few short seconds, he rubbed at his arm with his hand, staring at a point not quite at the camera, but behind it. “I um… I know that might seem weird to you guys, though.”

Stan frowned at this, brow raised over his glasses. “What’re you talkin’ about, kid?”

“I just mean that… that I know it’s not  _ normal _ , so… I’d understand if you didn’t…”

“Your parents, were they…?” Ford began, but the look on Dipper and Mabel’s faces simultaneously must have shut him down. Stan’s hands curled into fists and he cursed under his breath, meeting Ford’s gaze. Of course their normal parents could handle having a pet pig sent home with them, but not them having a relationship like that. He sighed. “Dipper, I want you to know that anytime you’re worried about us not supporting you because something you’re doing isn’t  _ normal _ , that… chances are? We’re probably going to support you anyway. You too, Mabel, of course.”

Dipper turned away from the camera, reaching up to rub at his eyes from under the brim of his hat, and Mabel threw her arms around him in a hug. “See? I told you!” she said, though she sounded just a little relieved herself.

-

The video call ended with relative success, what with both teens being reassured that what they were choosing for themselves wasn’t wrong, and having broken the news of Ford’s engagement to you. Stan made sure to gripe about all the sappiness in the air, how it was enough to make a man sick, but you just bumped him with your shoulder before getting up to go top-side.

The rest of the day was spent pretty individually, with Ford studying the ring you’d gotten from an incubus (apparently he missed that??) and you sitting top-side with a sketchbook. Stan himself was sitting at the wheel, lazily navigating you all toward your next stop. An island that has been rumored to hold mysterious creatures was coming up, and Ford (and Stan) wanted to make certain that you all saw it before you passed it by.

His eyes were drawn to you, sitting in one of the few deck chairs, weighted down by a bag of sand to keep it from sliding all over the place. You were hunched over the sketchpad in your lap, pencil working furiously in quick, even strokes… at least, he assumed, from where he was. Putting you all on course, he stepped outside and stretched his arms over his head, wincing with a grunt at the pop his back gave in protest.

“What‘cha doin’?” he asked, despite knowing the obvious answer. He snorted a bit as your tongue stuck out from the corner of your mouth in concentration, and he stepped closer to see what you were drawing. It was obvious that it was Ford, wearing what looked like a fancy suit. The detailing on it, honestly wasn’t bad, but you kept erasing and re-drawing his face, a bit of frustration seeping into your expression.

“I can’t get his face to look right… It always looks off, somehow.” You sighed and flipped the sketchbook closed, staring out on the horizon, where the sky met the sea.

“Hey, I thought it looked pretty good,” he said, then, after a second, shrugged his shoulders. “Better than I could do, anyway. Ford was always the artist, not me.” You side-eyed him, and he turned to look at you, brow cocked, but you just sighed and shook your head.

“Well, I should probably try and rustle us up some dinner.” You stood, book tucked under your arm and pencil clipped onto the ring binding. After a second more of staring at the horizon, you turned to him, giving him a little smile. “Any requests?” He hummed, then gave a rolling shrug of his shoulders, which you scoffed at. “That’s helpful. Guess I’ll just wing it.”

“Or ask, y’know, your fiance what he wants?” He snickered as your face steadily began to grow red, a grin wanting so obviously to turn up the corners of your mouth, but you fought against it. “Man, you two’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” you punched him in the shoulder, though not hard enough for it to actually hurt. He laughed more genuinely this time, rolling away from the punch and reaching a hand up to ruffle your hair. “Ack, hey!” You bat at his hands until, with a smile, he backed off, resting them on his hips instead.

“Not my fault you’re so easy to mess with.” Your little huff of breath at that drew another small chuckle from him. “And, hey… After dinner, meet me up here, alright?” When you looked him over in confusion, he cocked his head to one side, shooting you a grin. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to ya about is all. No big deal.”

“Alright… Well, I’m gonna go make dinner. See you in a bit.”

  
  
  


Stan spent the time until dinner was ready thinking. Sure, he was often thought of as the ‘dumb twin’, but he thought a lot. About a lot of things. The future was one of them; particularly, the future between you and Ford, and where exactly he fit into it.

_ He’s not gonna want to sail around the world with you anymore. You’re gonna lose him again, only this time, it’s for a different reason. You can’t fix this. Nothing you do will do anything-- _

He shook his head and breathed out a tense sigh, looking out over the waves and where the sky touched them. It was dark now, and about time to drop anchor so that they could turn in for the night… but not before he’d said his piece. Not before you understood where he stood on things.

Once you called him down for dinner, he’d expected the two of you to already be in one of the booth seats that hugged the small table. So imagine his surprise when the two of you were sitting across from one another, pouring over some book of Ford’s, your plates untouched. You looked up first when he came down the stairs and into the small kitchenette, smiling brightly.

“There you are. I made you a plate already, hope that’s okay.” Ford looked up then, brow raised.

“Thanks. I uh, went ahead and dropped anchor,” Stan said easily enough, standing there contemplating for a moment. There was a stack of books on the seat next to Ford, but the seat you were in was otherwise empty… so, with only a small amount of hesitation, he slid into the seat next to you. “Y’know, y’ could’ve gone ahead and started eating.”

“Nonsense, not without everyone at the table. They insisted otherwise,” Ford said, picking up his fork and stabbing a bite of what looked like some kind of white fish. Probably some of what Stan had caught the other day.

“I just figured, y’know, eat as a family, right?” they asked, and he couldn’t help but grin at how earnest you sounded. He bumped his elbow into your side as he chuckled, picking up his fork and digging into his own food. “Thanks, kid.”

You seemed pleased by that, from the look on your face, and you started eating your own food, pausing in between bites to ask Ford more about the book the two of you had been pouring over. Some fantasy novel, if he ventured a guess. And he was right, because the talk of elves and dwarves and orcs and all other manner of dorky things came up. He just rolled his eyes, throwing in a few teasing remarks here and there as he saw fit, but otherwise remained quiet.

He was far more interested in listening to the two of them interact… or, rather,  _ how _ they interacted.

Ford was definitely more knowledgeable of these things, and related more to real life, but it was in such a way that was still just as fantastical and weird. Whenever you’d say something that he deemed to be false, he’d gently suggest the ‘correct’ answer, prompting contemplative discussion.

Meanwhile, you came from a ‘normal’ life and a ‘normal’ family, but still had an interest in the paranormal and the weird, and it showed in how you dealt with matters of fantasy such as the book you two were discussing. Whenever Ford would bring up a point, you’d consider it, not immediately taking it to heart, and you even brought up several valid points of your own that gave his brother pause and, eventually, he’d agree with you.

You didn’t fight over it, and it was just weird to him, seeing two people have a relationship that didn’t dissolve into chaos over every little thing. Ford had done far better than their Ma and Filbrick had, that’s for damn sure.

“--ley? ...Stanley?” His attention came back to the present and he glanced up to find Ford staring at him, a touch of concern in his expression. Stan made a noise of confusion, but then he realized that his eyes were blurry.  _ Oh. _ “Stanley, are you--”

“Heh, didn’t know you’d spice up the fish that much, kid!” He whistled and raised a hand to rub at his eyes while the other lifted up his glasses. “Damn, warn a guy next time.”

“...Yeah, heh, sorry about that! Guess you’ve been pranked,” you said easily enough, after a short pause, and he was grateful for it. He looked down at his now empty plate and sighed.

“Ah, well, I better go check the weather forecast for tomorrow, see what it’s gonna look like out there.” He scooted his way out of the booth seat and took his plate to the sink, setting it down before heading back to the stairs to go topside.

He hated how out of place he felt. Just like before…

Leaning back in one of the seats on the deck, he pulled his phone out from his pocket and contemplated… then, swallowing his nervousness and pride, sent a message.

[Stan]: Hey there Doll. It’s Stan, from that shitty club we were both at?

After a moment, he smacked his forehead, grumbling under his breath as he continued to type.

[Stan]: Wait I put my name in your phone, you know who it is.

[Stan]: Anyway I was just seein how you were doin after all that.

[Stan] Checkin in and whatnot.

He waited for a few long moments, eyes glued to the little notifier underneath his text, waiting for it to say ‘Seen’. It never did, though, and by the time he put his phone away with a sigh, there were stars beginning to dot the sky. Like someone had taken a brush full of white paint and flicked it at an expansive, dark blueish-black canvas.

“Hey,” came your voice from behind him, and he flinched, cursing under his breath at the overreaction. You chuckled and sidled up next to him, hand on the back of the chair next to his. “This seat taken?” He fixed you with a look that was supposed to say something along the lines of ‘you know it’s not’ and you let out a little laugh, sitting down next to him. “So tell me… what’s a fine young thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Okay, that might’ve gotten a snort out of him, but dammit, shitty pick-up lines were his favorite, okay?? He couldn’t help it.

“Kid, you need your eyes checked if you think I’m anything near fine or young,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, about that…” He glanced over at you and saw you worrying on your bottom lip with your teeth, something that no doubt would’ve driven his brother crazy, but to him, it just made him curious. “At dinner… I wanted to know if you were okay?” He frowned, and you must’ve taken that as him being upset, because you quickly continued. “I-I mean, not that it’s my place to pry or anything, I’m not Ford or Dipper or Mabel, but--”

“Hey, you may not be them, but you are you, and that’s… that's pretty damn good reason enough to pry. I mean, you’re--”  _ you’re my family, too _ “-- gonna be my sibster-in-law, y’know?” That particular response seems to surprise you a bit, enough that your lips part and your eyes widen a bit from their constant half-mast state.

“I… I guess so, yeah…” He gestured with his hand, like he was saying ‘well there you go then’, and you frowned. “Okay, then… what happened at dinner…?”

“Eh… Not much. Just thinkin’ ‘bout stuff. The usual.” You snorted, and here he expected the usual ‘Stanley Pines? Thinking? That’s dangerous’ joke that everyone seems to want to give him.

“If you say so… I was just worried, is all. Ford was too, I think.”

_ Oh. _ ...Well, when you put it like that…

He sighed, “I mean, it’s no big deal, kid. I was just gettin’ nostalgic, thinkin’ about the past and whatnot…” Movement to his right pulled his attention over to you, where you were leaning forward in your seat slightly, head cocked to one side curiously.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what about the past?”

“Ehh… Y’know, just like… I was thinkin’ about how good your relationship with my bro is.” You make a small noise of surprise in your throat, and he feels embarrassed at having said so much already, yet he continues. “I mean, you two almost never fight, and even when ya do, ya talk it out like civilized people instead of just gettin’ into a screamin’ match.”

“... Is that the kind of example you grew up with?”

The question came from nowhere, and it felt a little like a punch to the gut. That must’ve been obvious, because soon you were apologizing, hands raised in a placating gesture while Stan just shook his head with a grunt.

“You apologize too much, y’know that?”

“I know… Sorr-- … I mean--” You fumbled over your near apology, falling silent for a few long moments, until Stan’s snort of laughter broke the quiet between you.

“Y’know kid, you’re somethin’ else. Weird, but in a good way. My brother really likes ya.” You seemed pleased to hear that, and he wondered if maybe you, too, didn’t feel like you deserved the things you had. “...I expect you to keep him happy, y’know,” he said, a sudden mood change in the conversation that became more serious.

“Trust me, Stan… if I can’t make him happy? I’ll quietly duck out myself. And let you kick my ass.”

“I’m not gonna beat you up, kid. Just wanted you t’ know what the expectations are. I expect him to keep you happy, too, y’know.”

“Me? … Why me?” you asked, and god dammit, it was so honest, so genuinely confused, that he felt something in his chest give way. He looked up at the starry night sky and let out a long sigh, watching as what he’d thought were a cluster of stars began to move across the sky. An airplane, must’ve been. Either that, or some kind of weird UFO.

“Cuz, kid. You’re…” He sucked in a short breath and turned his head so you couldn’t see his face, scowling lightly at the stars to his left. “You’re part of this family, too. Whether you marry Sixer or not, doesn’t matter…” he mumbled quietly, and he didn’t hear you say anything, so he just continued to...stare, off into space. (Literally.)

Then, the sound of a chair scraping wood, and Stan felt you throw your weight at him from his right. He grunted in surprise, arm flying around to grab onto you, and it wasn’t until you pressed your face against his shoulder that he realized you were crying. Fuck.

“Thanks, Stan… That means a lot.”

He pat your back a few times, awkwardly, just sitting there stiffly in your embrace. Then, after a few moments when you didn’t pull away, he felt himself relax a bit, arm winding ‘round your shoulders and pulling you in close.

“No problem, sibs.” And fuck, his face felt hot, this was embarrassing. Talking about feelings was never his forte, so he’s glad he just managed to do this without getting you upset. As nice as the hug was, however, he was grateful when you pulled away, sniffling and raising a hand to wipe at your eyes. “Heh, you didn’t get snot on me, did ya?”

You scoffed and punched his shoulder, “No! Shut up!” He laughed and turned to give you a smile, though he was thrown off by just how warm and inviting yours was on your face. He could kind of see, in some light, how Ford was drawn in by you… and he’s glad he was. “So,” you began, and he raised a brow curiously. You grinned at him, pearly whites shining slightly in the minimal light from the control room, “Wanna play 20 Questions?”

“Ah, geez, how did I know that was comin’?” You snickered a bit and he frowned at you, though there was absolutely no way to make it look real. “Hey, I used to be Mr. Mystery, y’know? I gotta keep some of my mysterious air if I wanna have any appeal.”

“Is that what you’re wanting that girl from the club to think? That you have this mysterious air?” Ah shit, he felt his face heating up, and before he could turn away, you must’ve seen it, because you let out a little ‘heehee’ of a laugh. “I knew it!”

“Alright, alright, keep it down, ya brat. Nobody needs to know ‘cept you and me… and Ford, since I know you’re gonna tell ‘im.” You bumped shoulders with him and he leaned away, acting as though he were sulking.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad! You danced with her all evening. Did you at least get a phone number?” His silence was deafening, but it must’ve still managed to give something away, because you sat up a little straighter. “No. Way. You got her number??? What’s her name?”

“Eugh, can we not do this right now? I just ate, and if you get any more excited on my behalf, I’m gonna have to barf, like, all over the new paint job on the boat.” You scoffed at him and pushed on his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but grin at your little whine of ‘c’moooooon’. “Alright alright, if it’ll get ya to shut yer yap about it, her name is Doll.”

“She looked like a doll… So pretty and perfect.”

“Yeah…” he sighed, then, realizing what he said, he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah right! No such thing as perfect, kid.” Even though he severely wished he could take back saying that, he wasn’t about to go into talking about his feelings so openly like this. Even out in the middle of the ocean, on a boat, alone.

“Oh my god… You like her, don’t you?” His face flushed, and you cackled as he tried to grab you, you scooting your chair away from his with a scraping sound. “You do! That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!”

“Yeah, well, shut up!” He grabbed the armrest of your chair and pulled it back over to his, looping an arm around your neck and giving you a noogie, knuckles digging lightly into your hair and scalp. “I may like her, but not as much as you and Ford are so into each other! It’s enough to make a man sick!” You ducked out of his hold and held your fists up, like you were getting ready to box him, and he raised a brow at the challenge. He snorted, “Put them noodle arms down before ya hurt yourself, kid.”

“Nuh uh. They’re up and they’re stayin’ until you tell me about your time at the club. And what happened after Ford and I left?”

“Y’mean after you two ditched me to go canoodle on  _ my _ boat?” Your face flushed all the way up to your ears, but your determined face still stayed, so he sighed. “Fine. After that run-in with dickhead-- whatever Ford called ‘im, an incubus?-- Doll kinda… had an anxiety attack, from the action. I took her outside and helped her through it, talked to her, y’know, the usual, then she messaged her friend.” You were staring at him, hands slowly lowered until they were gripping onto the armrest of your chair, and he cocked a brow, frowning slightly. “What?”

“Oh, nothing… just that you’re one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever heard of!” He scoffed, and you pointed a finger at his nose, frowning yourself now. “Stanley Carlton Pines--”

“Wait, did Ford really tell you my middle name--”

“--I can’t stand to hear you laugh off something like that! Just because you don’t see it yourself doesn’t mean it’s not true, y’know.” He...didn’t have anything to say to that, honestly, his frown now turning thoughtful; meanwhile, you leaned back in your chair with a short huff, turning your chin up to look at the thousands of bright stars shining overhead. Without the light pollution from the city, it was amazingly bright-- even brighter than it was up in Gravity Falls. “...That’s something I’m still learning too, y’know. How to take a compliment without tearing it into pieces in my head. ...I’m sorry if this is personal, but I wish that you’d had an easier life.”

“Yeah… me too, kid. But if it hadn’t gone this way, then who knows what would’ve happened?” Who knows? He and his brother would’ve never fought, they never would’ve split up, and they’d have been out at sea for years before ever even meeting you. Hell, maybe they never would’ve met you at all. “It might’ve been easier to do things different, but… hell. If it brought you to Ford, then it can’t have been all bad, right?” Two hands enveloped one of his, and he glanced over at you to see you smiling at him, unshed tears shining in your eyes. And maybe this time, if he did get misty eyed, no one was there to say anything, and you just let it go.

You stayed like that for a long while, until you started falling asleep against his shoulder, and Ford came up topside to collect you and bring you to bed. And just as he was beginning to miss the warmth of your company, he felt a buzz from the phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw a text message waiting for him, from  _ them _ , and he felt himself smile in spite of himself.

Yeah… maybe things aren’t so bad how they turned out, afterall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Stan's middle name was made up by guilty-pleasures-abound, not me. I couldn't think of one, and Carlton just as such a nice ring to it... ;w; Also Stanley needs a hug, stat!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shopping trip turned wrong; A text message read too late; and A dark side no one knew about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has some hinting at darker things, and violence! If it becomes too much and I need to add a tl;dr then let me know, and I will. I promise this isn't staying very long, just a couple chapters, but I don't want it to become too much that you all stop reading! It gets much better from here, I just felt like throwing a little angst and turmoil into the mix.

Ford’s POV

The next week or so at sea was pretty peaceful, save for the giant squid-cyclops thing that tried to sink their boat. It was a non-issue, Ford had assured you, and even though you looked concerned and, dare he say, a little perplexed, you trusted his judgement enough that you went back below deck to finish dinner preparations, and he couldn’t say with words just how it made his heart do a little pirouette in his chest. How easily you seemed to trust him (and Stanley) with your life was awfully endearing, if not the slightest bit concerning in itself. What if they hadn’t been able to beat back the beast and scare it off from attacking the boat? You would’ve taken your disappointment with you to a watery grave…

On a less morbid note, Mabel had been calling more or less daily to ask about how wedding preparations were going. And, while her enthusiasm was endearing, Ford found himself feeling slightly… overwhelmed, by all the wedding jargon being tossed around as she held up magazine clippings pasted into Mabel’s Ultimate Wedding Handbook. He knew that she’d probably have something like it, but it was just so  _ massive _ , holding probably the equivalent to three of his own journal’s worth of information. Catering company numbers were listed, wedding cake types were given, wedding dress styles were lined out, but that didn’t even  _ begin _ to flesh out exactly what they were apparently getting themselves into. It was, as stated above, a little overwhelming.

Thankfully, there was a reprieve of sorts when you mentioned casually that you weren’t really into wearing dresses. Mabel had frowned at this, though not displeased, more thoughtful, and hummed to herself. ‘I see I see…’ she had said, and then she grabbed what was obviously a sketch book and flipped open the massive tome of all things Matrimony to a random page. ‘Gotta work on that, then. I’ll talk to you guys later! Love you!’ Then the call had ended, and you and Ford both had sighed out a little bit of relief while Stanley snickered at your shared predicament.

“Well, if you two  _ lovenerds _ are done with your plannin’, maybe we can go get supplies?” Ford noticed you perk up immediately at Stanley’s suggestion, and he couldn’t help but chuckle as you jumped up and began to search immediately for your shoes. The boots were pulled on and laced as quickly as you could manage, and then you were following Stan up topside. When Ford himself failed to follow, the two of you stopped and turned to look at him, brows raised. “You comin’ or what?”

“Actually, I was thinking about compiling my notes on the merfolk migration and drawing up new anatomical diagrams for my journal to show Dipper later--”

“Yeah, you do that. We’re gonna go get food, right?” His twin threw an arm around your neck, pulling you in close in what Stan would call perfect noogie-ing position, and you just beamed and nodded.

“We’ll be back soon! I’ll take pictures of things you might like and ask before buying them, okay?” you asked, and Ford nodded, smiling.

“Great! Then let’s go, kid-” You ducked out of Stan’s grip and wrapped an arm around his neck from behind, and he just huffed and bent over, pulling you with him so your feet were off the ground. “Goddamn, you’re heavy, get off!” he groaned and lamented, but he walked up the stairs with you like that, you giggling all the while.

It did Ford’s heart good to see you two interacting so positively. And to think he thought at one point that you had romantic feelings for each other… It was almost embarrassing to think about now, with how close the two of you had gotten. Almost like you really were siblings...

Once he heard two sets of feet leaving the boat, he pushed himself up from Stan’s bunk where he’d been sitting and walked into the kitchenette, where his journal and research were waiting for him.

-

Stan’s POV

“Ooh, look at this! You think Ford will like it?”

Stan turned and glanced over his shoulder at you as you looked over a bunch of fancy pen nibs in a window display. He never was one for that sort of thing, but it  _ did  _ seem like something the poindexter would enjoy getting. As you raised your phone to take yet another photograph and send it to your fiance, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a snort of laughter.

“You two’re pretty gross sometimes with how sweet you are, y’know that?” he said lowly, and even though he tried to dodge, you ended up planting a punch onto his shoulder. He laughed at the slight embarrassed look on your face, though you were smiling a little too wide for it to be too bad.

“Hey, shut up. I’m sure you and Doll are the same way,” you pointed out, and he hunched his shoulders, grumbling. “Orrrrr you would be, if you told her how you felt!”

Okay, so maybe you were right. Didn’t mean he needed to like having it pointed out like this.

“Shut it, brat,” he said, giving you a little shove at the store’s doorway. Then, with a little grin, he shot you a wink. “Go get your future husband his pen nibs or whatever the fuck and leave me alone.”

“God, you’re the worst,” you groaned, but relented, walking into the store. He, meanwhile, really felt like checking his messages. For no reason in particular, having absolutely nothing to do with having a certain woman brought up. Nope.

He pulled out his phone as he walked, eyes flickering upward every so often to make sure he wasn’t about to walk into anyone. As he unlocked his phone, he noticed a message waiting for him, and he smiled. Not knowing that he was smiling like one of those lovesick people who just got a message from their significant other. He caught himself as his cheeks began to ache, and he forced himself to scowl instead, though goddamn, it was just wanting to turn back into a grin no matter what he did.

[Stan]: Just made port actually. Sib and I are out doing the real work of getting supplies while Ford stays back at the boat doing nerd stuff.

[Stan]: They’re so lovesick and excited about their engagement, it’s enough to make a man sick.

He knew that she’d know what he really meant. Somehow, even though they hadn’t really talked all that much, she just seemed to know…

A ding from his phone alerted him to another message, and he felt himself smiling again as he read it--

A hand on his shoulder pulled him roughly into the alley, enough that he almost dropped his phone. He put it in his pocket safely and snapped his head up with a frown, an admonishment on the tip of his tongue until he saw who it was. His face paled, and he backed away slightly… or tried to, but suddenly there was a presence at his back, pushing him forward.

“Good to see you again, my friend.”

Shit.

A rush of memories came forward in his mind, of a man named Rico and all of his ‘friends’. Cigarette burns and cheap alcohol. Money borrowed and not repaid. Drugs traded for food. Favors for quick cash.

Stan felt sick to his stomach.

“Been a while, huh? And when I heard the news that Stanley Pines had died in some freak car accident, I thought perhaps I’d lost my chance to get my money back… but here we are.”

Keep calm. Calm. There was no sense getting panicked now, they already had him. His hands inched towards his pocket, where his brass knuckles rested, but before he could fully grasp them, a hand grabbed his wrist and squeezed hard enough that his fingers spasmed open. He gave a short grunt of pain and the men surrounding him laughed.

“What good fortune this is, wouldn’t you say?” the man in front of him said, hands held up as if in prayer, in thanks for this ‘good fortune’ that, quite honestly, Stan couldn’t bring himself to agree with. It must’ve shown on his face, too, because the man laughed and reached out to tuck an index finger under Stan’s chin. “Come on, you have to admit you must have missed us, even a little.”

Stan jerked his face away from the movement, but a large hand on the back of his head pushed him forward again, and he turned a glare at the man standing before him. “Can’t say I have.”

“Hmm… Pity. Here I was hoping we could pick up where we left off. You made us a lot of money back then, Stanley Pines.”

More memories, flashes of him, dingy motel rooms, block it out, don’t think about it, don’t think--

A sharp snap of fingers broke through the barrage of thoughts, and Stan felt the big lug behind him push him towards what looked like a typical stalker van. All white, rusted in places, no plates, blacked-out windows. The back door was held open by an unsure-looking young man, probably a newbie to Rico’s gang.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to come with us for now.”

Stan threw his head back against the hand holding him forward, turning to deck the guy, but was surprised to find a hand around his throat, squeezing hard enough that breath came with difficulty.

“Now now, Pines, no need to fight. We’re friends, remember? I’ve just got a few things to talk to you about in regards to the money you owe me… Let’s not make a scene.”

The shutter-click sound of a camera broke through the murmur of people passing by on the street and their ‘conversation’, and Stan glanced over the largest goon’s shoulder to see--

_ Fuck. _

You were standing there, thumbs flying across the screen of your phone as you sent whatever sort of message to whoever you were sending it to, and he could tell even from this distance that your hands were shaking. His stomach bottomed out and dropped everything into his lower gut, dread building within him at this newest development.

A click of a tongue from behind him made him stiffen, and suddenly, there were hands reaching for you, grabbing you as you gave a startled cry. You held to your phone with an iron grip, your knuckles white from the strain, and when they couldn’t get the phone away from you, they looked to their boss.

“Won’t let it go, boss.”

“Hmm… Judging from our friend’s reaction here, I get the feeling they know this person.” Stan said a silent prayer in his mind that maybe they’d let you go, take your phone and just let you run back to the boat to get Ford, something-- “Bring them.” And just as quickly, that hope petered out, and he watched as one of the men hosited you up, your legs kicking wildly as you flailed, trying to break free.

“C’mon, stop--” The guy was struggling, obviously newer at this, and after a moment, he released a frustrated growl. “I said  _ stop _ !” A fist flew to connect with your right cheek, just below your eye, and a high, muffled cry of pain managed to escape you before you were forcibly shoved towards the van. You stumbled and fell, scrambling to get to your feet before the boot could connect with your ribs, but failing.

“They got nothin’ to do with this!” Stan yelled, eyes darting between those passing by on the street just outside the alley and you, curling on your side with your knees drawn to your chest to try and protect your ribs. “Let them go, I’ll give you whatever you want!”

Rico held a hand up and his goons all stopped, turning to look at him as he contemplated. And it’s now that Stan only truly realizes what he just said...but not willing to take it back. Not if it meant you getting away safely.

“...In the van. If your friend cooperates with us, then he can live.”

Stan’s eyes darted between your face on the ground and Rico’s, and, after a while, swallowed thickly and nodded. There was no use fighting back right now. If people hadn’t stopped to help by now, then they weren’t going to, and he didn’t want to risk you getting hurt any more than you already had.

You were dragged to your feet by your hair, and the only thing he could think of was how high your whine of pain sounded. He prayed that they’d continue to think you were a guy for your safety’s sake, because if they found out you were anything else…

He didn’t even want to  _ think _ about what would happen to you if that were the case.

Rough rope was quickly used to bind your wrists, and it was obviously too tight for both of you, if the way you winced at the pain said anything at all. Your phones were confiscated and given to Rico, who shoved them into his pocket with a cruel smile.

The large goon shoved on Stan’s neck and pushed him into the van roughly, and it was only a matter of seconds before you were literally tossed in with him. Once the door slammed shut and locked behind you, he took the time to assess the situation at hand.

The doors were surely locked from the outside, and the windows were undoubtedly too thick to break out… And even if they weren’t, he didn’t want to risk sending you through a broken window while the van was driving. There was a cage of sorts keeping you separated from the front seats, and one hard kick to it assured him that it would hold no matter how hard he tried to break it.

Great.

Perfect.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

He groaned and rested his head against one of the cool glass windows, too dark to see in from the outside, but crystal clear from the inside.

“Stan…?” Your voice came from next to him now, sounding much smaller than he ever remembered you sounding. He glanced over at you and felt his heart clench in his chest at how small you  _ looked _ , probably never having been kidnapped before. What a ridiculous notion. That he was so used to it that he thought it strange to  _ not _ have ever experienced it.

God his life was pretty fucked up.

He put on his most reassuring smile and scooted closer, trying to grab your hands with his, but it being difficult with them being tied behind his back.

“Hey, kid, listen, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure you get outta this.” The assurance didn’t seem to do much, but you looked a little less like you were about to cry, so he counted it as a small victory of sorts. “Just gotta wait it out for now, okay? Dunno where they’re taking us, but it’ll be okay.”

You nodded, then, once you were able to turn enough that your hands found each other, you squeezed his fiercely. “You, too… We’re both gonna get out of this somehow.”

God, he hoped so…

-

Ford’s POV

It was surprisingly difficult to keep focused on the work at hand, especially with how many messages he was getting on his cellular device. Some were from you, which he’d expected, but most of them were coming from Mabel.

[Mabel&Dipper]: M- Hey Grunkle Ford! What is your betrothed’s favorite color??   
[Mabel&Dipper]: M- It’s the same color as their hair, right? And their hoodie? Actually that was a pretty obvious question now that I think about it.

[Mabel&Dipper]: M- They said no to dresses but what about suits?? What kind of suit do you think they’d like?

[Mabel&Dipper]: M- Bowties or regular ties?

[Mabel&Dipper]: M- Okay okay last question, do you think they’d still be okay with wearing heels, or should I look at regular dress shoes for them?

[Mabel&Dipper]: M- I lied, this is the last question. What sort of theme do you think they’d want to go for? Wester? Eastern? Medieval Fantasy, maybe?? Is there such a thing as a DD&mD style wedding?

[Mabel&Dipper]: M- There is now! I’m planning one already, just in case you two decide that’s what you want.

Only slightly overwhelmed by the number of ‘dings’ coming from his phone, Ford set it down for a while, after sending Mabel a short reply of ‘I’ll wait until they get back to respond, working now’. There was one last ding that he assumed was Mabel responding, but he left it unread.

It wasn’t until he was done with his work a couple hours later that he realized how long it had been...and how quiet the boat was. Why were you and Stan not back yet?

Grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket, he climbed up topside on the boat and looked out, hoping to see that one or both of you were returning. When he saw no one, he felt himself frowning…

No, no, surely you two just got caught up looking at souvenirs and such, as you always did whenever you all stopped in at port. You both had a tendency to look for little gifts and trinkets for Mabel and Dipper, and Stan always tried to find new hats to send Soos.

Something irked at the back of his mind, an inkling of something that he needed to do, and it was only then that he pulled out his cell phone and checked his messages.

He felt his blood run cold at what he saw waiting for him.

[You]: Rico

The photograph was obviously taken shakily, but he was able to make out what it was, regardless. A van, a license plate, Stan, obviously being roughed up and shoved toward the aforementioned van, and what looked like a strange man coming towards you, hands outstretched.

Stan’s face was fearful, an expression he hadn’t been able to see very often on his brother’s face, but it made something heavy curl in his gut, weighing him down. He couldn’t help but wonder if that fear was for you, or for himself…

Cold blood warmed quickly, a spark of rage filling his chest as he gripped his phone tightly in hand, trembling. He stared at the photograph, committing every detail to memory: the men’s faces he could see clearly, the license plate, everything.

He saw the timestamp and felt his feet moving in a sprint before he could even register what he was doing, phone being shoved into his slacks pocket.

It had already been two hours since you sent that message. He’d wasted enough time. He was going to get the both of you back, and, while he was at it, he was going to make the people responsible for this mess pay very, very dearly.

First thing’s first, he needed to find where you were taken from, which shouldn’t be difficult, considering he had a photograph to reference. How many dark alleys were there in this town?

He’d search every single one if that’s what it took to find you and Stan.

-

Stan’s POV

A warehouse. It was large, and dark inside, smelling of drugs and smoke and alcohol. Like the club you had visited in Hawaii, only infinitely worse. The only music was coming from one of Rico’s more unhinged goons, who was sharpening a bowie knife with a whetstone while smiling and singing under his breath.

Stan wiggled uncomfortably in the chair he was tied to, glancing behind him as much as he could over his shoulder. He was able to catch a glimpse of your vibrantly colored hair, but that was it. You’d been silent for the better part of an hour, and despite his best attempts to keep you talking and with him, you just weren’t responding anymore.

It wasn’t until your breathing began to pick up that he began to really, really worry.

“Hey, kid, c’mon… Ya gotta talk to me,” he said quietly, hoping not to garner the attention of the knife-wielding loon sitting on the other side of the room. Your breath hitched, and he could feel your shoulders trembling against his back, and he knew you were probably crying.

“Don’t like… Nnnnnnnnh, I can’t  _ move _ \--” You cut yourself off with a gasp, the trembling growing worse as you ducked your head away from him. He frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but… honestly, he couldn’t blame you. This was, out of any sort of situation,  _ the _ perfect chance to have a panic attack. Which he assumed you were having right now, from the way you were beginning to hyperventilate and shake.

“I know… But it’s better to be here, trust me.” It wasn’t much in terms of assurance, but it really was the truth. If you weren’t tied to the chair, you were doing something else… and lord only knew what that ‘something else’ could be.

“Stan…” you whined softly, voice tearful, and he leaned his head back to nudge against the back of your head in the closest thing to comfort he could give.

“It’ll be okay, kid. I promise.” He kept his head there, making an effort to breath in and out slowly, loud enough that you could hear, and he felt relief flood through him when he heard you attempting to replicate it yourself.

A gunshot sound echoed throughout the room, and the man sitting on the opposite side laughed as he pulled out his phone, unlocking it and putting it up to his ear. “Y’ello?” His cheer was sickeningly sweet, and Stan wanted nothing more than to punch the guy right across the nose, but tied up he could do nothing but watch. The man’s smile turned up at the corners, all sharp and eager in the same breath, and he nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll get ‘em separated for ya boss.”

Separated?

Your breathing picked up again, and Stan nuzzled his head against the back of yours before sitting upright, speaking low and under his breath.

“Listen, kid, ya gotta stay calm. I know it’s hard, but it’s better for ya that way… They won’t do nothin’ to ya as long as I do what they want.”

“But Stan, what if they--”

“Welp! Hello there, sorry to disappoint, but I’m gonna have to split you two up.” The man raked the hand not holding the knife through his thinning hair, his tanned skin peeling in places on his face. Stan committed the face to memory, if only so he knew whose ass to kick later. He stepped to the side of the two chairs and pushed them apart, then moving his focus on to moving you. “Damn, Pines, you’ve gotten heavy… Guess I need to move your little friend instead, haha!” He slid his hands along your arms, Stan could see from the corner of his eye, and he felt anger bubble and simmer in his gut. Your chair was dragged to be facing Stan instead, and he felt a fear deep down that made him wonder exactly what it was they were up to.

Finally able to see his face, you looked relieved, eyes flickering over his frame to take in the damage he’d sustained. Just a few hits here and there, nothing too bad. But you… God, if he made it out of this alive, Ford was going to disown him.

The right side of your face was already bruising, and your cheekbone was split slightly, letting out a thin stream of blood that dripped down onto the neckline of your hoodie.

“There we go! Ready when you are!” the crazed man called out cheerfully, and in that next moment, Stan saw the large goon from before duck into the room, followed by a pleasantly smiling Rico.

“I’m so sorry we had to resort to violence, my friend! But when you refuse to cooperate, I’m afraid there isn’t much more we can do.” He looked almost remorseful, but Stan knew better. He knew better than to believe anything this bastard had to say.

“Why are we here?” you asked, and Stan sent you a look that said to be quiet, but it was too late. Rico chuckled and strode over to your chair, tucking a hand under your chin.

“Why, because my friend here owes me money, that’s all. And as soon as I get it, then you’re free to go.” Stan only hoped Rico meant that, but he didn’t have much hope… “You’re here because you decided to interfere, my dear.” Your nose wrinkled at the affectionate term, and he pat your injured cheek, hard enough that you flinched. “So!” He turned to Stan, hands held out to his sides and a smile on his lips. “Tell me, Stanley Pines, where is my money?”

“I don’t remember how much I owe ya, but I’ll pay it, alright? Whatever it takes. Just let my friend here go.”

“Hmm… I suppose that sounds fair enough. However… I went through a lot of trouble finding you. I’ll need extra payment in order to make up for that.”

“You can have it! Let them go, and I’ll give you however much money ya want--”

“Money? No no, my friend. See, you’ll pay me my money… but after the years I spent searching for our biggest asset, our biggest money-maker, all the man hours and the effort I put in, I’m requiring payment of a different kind…” His kind smile suddenly turned sinister, and Stan heard a cry from behind Rico, who now stood between the two of you. “Blood.”

He stepped to the side and the sight that met him made him feel physically ill. There was blood running in rivulets down your arm, your hoodie sliced open on the shoulder to reveal a decent looking gash. The knife-wielding maniac giggled and licked at the blade, eyes wide and bright and horribly, horribly pleased with himself.

“No!” Stan cried out, thrashing against his bonds.

“So, I’ve figured something out. You’re still pretty bad at hiding how you feel about people. And this guy here? You care a lot about them.”

_ You screwed up. You screwed up. They’re going to die, and it’s all your fault, All your fault, All your fault, ALL YOUR FAULT, ALL-- _

“Now, I’m a pretty agreeable man… so I’ll  _ cut _ you a deal,” Rico said, punctuated by another cry of pain from you, another cut into your arm. “You either have the money on you right now, or are able to wire it to me… or they die, and I sink you to the bottom of the ocean with a pair of cement shoes…”

“Fuck you!!” he spat, anger raging in his gut, and even though most of it was at himself, he found a way to redirect it toward the man standing before him.

“You’re not my type anymore, but maybe we can work out a way for you to pay your debt off that way. Just like the good old days.”

Stan ducked his head, breathing heavily and hotly as the feeling of uselessness and hopelessness built up in the empty spaces in his chest. Every exhale was full of regret, and it was choking him.

“He’s not your type, huh? … What about me?”

His head snapped up so quickly he felt his neck pop, eyes widening in horror at what you were suggesting. And even worse was the contemplative look on Rico’s face as he looked you over.

“No. Kid, listen to me, you don’t--”

“I’m listening,” Rico interrupted, gesturing vaguely at Stan, and the large, intimidating lug of a goon slapped a hand over Stan’s mouth with a vice-like grip. He breathed heavily through his nose as panic began to take hold, eyes wide and hyper focused on you across from him.

“I’ve got what you’re looking for. Just… just let him go.”

_ Are they stupid? Why the fuck would they let me go and sacrifice themselves?? I’m not worth that. I never was. I need to get them out of here. Think, Stan. Think. Think. THINK! _

“And what do you think you have that I want? ...Unless…” Rico grabbed the knife from the crazy guy and raised it to your neck, and Stan felt his blood run cold in fear, mirroring your own fear on your face. He split your hoodie down the middle, proving just how sharp that knife really was as it sliced through it like paper. The knife slipped, cutting your skin just below your collarbone, and splitting the top of your binder open, revealing what was very clearly cleavage. “Oho, I see, I see…”

“Let…” You swallowed thickly, looking like you were about to be sick as Rico’s hand slid down to cup the back of your neck, instead. “Let him go, and… and you can have...whatever.”

Stan screamed behind the hand blocking his mouth, thrashing and throwing his head back against the goon’s abdomen. The hand only squeezed his lower face tighter, and he felt himself begin to shake.

Ford would never forgive this.

He’d have nowhere to go.

He had to get you out of here.

Think.

Think.

_ Think, god dammit. _

-

Ford’s POV

The second to last message came from a book store, a picture of some pen nibs that he would’ve absolutely loved. He found them, even, in a shopping bag resting on the sidewalk. He was surprised no one had made off with them yet, but it just helped cement exactly where it was he was headed.

He stood in the alley, saw the tire marks where they’d peeled out of the small dark space and onto the back roads. All the while, there was a steady thrumming of blood through his skull, in his ears, muffling all sound, yet, somehow, able to hear everything with a perfect clarity. His senses were on high alert, and surely he’d crash and be exhausted later, but for now, he needed this. Needed to keep this state as long as he could, so he could find his brother and his lover.

“--Boss took ‘em back, but man, you should’a seen the look on the little one’s face! Haha, man, they looked like a chick almost, yanno?”

Two men were standing and conversing, one looking very, very nervous, eyes flitting around constantly, while the other held an ease of confidence that only true arrogance could bring. Ford recognized the arrogant one immediately and strode over, twelve fingers curling into two, tightly balled fists.

“Hey man, you got a problem?” the man spat as Ford got close enough, reaching up to light a cigarette. Ford snatched it from his mouth and tossed it into the alley, and walked in by himself. “Hey, what the fuck?!” He followed, blind and so so stupid, right after Ford.

As soon as they were out of the public eye, Ford grabbed him by the collar and slammed him hard against the brick building to his right, ignoring the stinging feeling of nails digging into his wrists.

“Where are they?” he asked, calm as could be, but inside he was raging. The man spat at him and kicked, though Ford easily evaded.

“Dunno who th’ fuck you are, but you better let me go. I’m one of Rico’s men.”

More arrogance, leading way to stupidity, and Ford felt himself smile cruelly. “Is that so?”

“Yeah, so you’d better let me g-- gAH!!” A steel-toed boot landed right on the guy’s shin, and Ford heard the satisfying, if slightly sickening, crack of bone as it fractured beneath his well-placed kick. He dropped him, then, confident he wouldn’t get away.

“Where. Are. They.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand, and the man looked up at him from the ground where he’d slid and snarled.

“I ain’t tellin’ you shit old man! That useless bum and his little faggot friend are probably dead by now, anyway!”

“Wrong answer,” Ford bit out through clenched teeth, and he threw his fist hard as he could toward the guy’s face, connecting with a solid smack of flesh against flesh as it hit his mouth. Blood immediately spilled from his lip, which split against his own teeth, and when the guy spat out a bloody fragment of tooth, Ford felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“You can rough me up as much as I roughed up the little guy, I still ain’t tellin’ you nothing!”

He knelt down, sweeping his coat out behind him, and grabbed the guy’s hand, grabbing his pinky finger and bending it backward, thumb braced against the middle knuckle.

“I’ll ask as many times as you have fingers, and then I’ll move on to something else. You may as well tell me. Be smart, kid.”

“Fuck you!”

_ Snap. _

A cry of pain and the guy threw his head back, smacking it against the brick behind him. “You won’t find ‘em in time, they’re already--”

_ Snap. _

“AUGH!! Stop it!! They’re already dead!”

_ Snap. _

“I’ll fucking kill you! Rico will fucking kill you!!”

“You think so? For what? Killing you?” The ease with which he said it must have done something to the guy, because he shivered, blood pouring from his broken fingers and mouth. “You’re disposable to him. You’re just a tissue he has to use to wipe his nose, and as soon as you’re of no use anymore, he’ll throw you out.”

_ Snap. _

“Please, stop, I… I can’t tell you where they are. He’ll kill me--”

“I could easily kill you. With enough blood loss, it won’t be difficult.” Then, leveling him with a look that felt heavy, he scowled at him. “You’re a means to an end for me. I don’t care if you live or die right now. But time is of the essence, so I’m going to ask again… Where are they?”

The guy actually stopped to consider this time, but… he took too long, so Ford pressed hard on his thumb, popping it out of the joint and pulling with all his might.

“Okay okay!!” The guy was heaving for breath, spit and blood and snot dripping down his mouth and onto his shirt and pants, eyes red with tears. “Warehouse, just outside of town… I-I can’t take you like this, but, but please, no more--”

The sound of something wet and heavy hitting the pavement caught Ford’s attention, and he glanced over to see the young man who’d been talking to his current captive vomiting onto the ground. It splattered onto his nice sneakers and pant cuffs, smelling as foul as one might expect, but Ford paid it very little mind as he got to his feet, leaving the man in a heap against the brick wall.

“You’re going to take me to the warehouse. Now.” Once again, no trace of a question lingered in his words, and the young man covered his mouth with his hand and nodded, gagging back another wave of bile.

“O-Okay. I’ll… I’ll take you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo boy, that happened, huh? Shit's about to go down.
> 
> But hey, if you liked this chapter (or you didn't, either way) then please let me know by leaving a comment! It fuels me as a writer and helps me to write more, more quickly! And as always, I'm taking requests as well! So if there's something you want to see written, I'll either make it a one-shot or add it to the story (so long as it doesn't interfere much with the storyline).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope that you all look forward to the next installment: The Rescue!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Jitter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075932) by [SleepyStargazer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyStargazer/pseuds/SleepyStargazer)
  * [Sleep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284678) by [SleepyStargazer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyStargazer/pseuds/SleepyStargazer)




End file.
